The Ontology of Repetition in Contemporary Philosophy

Ghazal Refalian – February 2025

[This not is originally written in Persian and is translated to English by AI. Original note]

Repetition is one of the most enigmatic features of the world. On the one hand, recurring patterns make it possible to understand phenomena, bring order, and enable the continuity of events. On the other hand, these very patterns can turn into closed cycles that make transformation difficult. This raises a fundamental question: Is repetition merely a mechanism for preserving the status quo, or does it also contain within itself the possibility of change? Can we imagine a world in which, at no level, any kind of recurring pattern exists?

Some thinkers, such as Noam Chomsky and Daniel Dennett, have shown that the human mind naturally identifies and reproduces patterns; these patterns exist not only in language and cognition but also in biological and cultural evolution. David Chalmers poses a crucial question: Is consciousness itself a repetition of informational structures formed in the brain, or is it something beyond a mere processing pattern? Conversely, Graham Harman suggests that what we perceive as recurring patterns may be nothing more than mental representations of a fundamentally different underlying reality.

In the realm of social philosophy, Jürgen Habermas and Slavoj Žižek have examined the issue of the reproduction of power and ideology, showing how social discourses repeat themselves in cyclical forms. Byung-Chul Han argues that even in the modern age, digital structures and information capitalism reproduce exhausting patterns within society. But is it possible to go beyond these social and intellectual cycles? Alain Badiou proposes the theory of the “Event”: a moment that can create a rupture within repetitive structures and transform the course of history. Arendt, however, is more optimistic than Badiou and Han, viewing humanity’s inherent capacity for beginning anew as a guarantee for transformation.

Ultimately, this discussion raises a key question: Is a world without recurring patterns at any level even conceivable? Can we imagine a structure in which neither natural laws nor human thought nor social phenomena follow any form of repetition? Drawing on the views of philosophers such as Chomsky, Dennett, Chalmers, Harman, Habermas, Žižek, Badiou, Byung-Chul Han, and Arendt, this essay seeks to examine this question and explore its implications in various philosophical and scientific domains.

If recurring patterns simultaneously enable understanding and order while also having the potential to become closed cycles that hinder transformation, what role does the human mind play in all this? Do we think freely, or is the mind itself subject to patterns from which we cannot escape? Noam Chomsky, linguist and philosopher of cognition, has specifically addressed the question of how language and cognition are intertwined. He argues that language is not merely a tool for communication and expressing thought but also influences how we process information and understand the world. He maintains that the human mind naturally seeks out recurring patterns, perceives them, and reproduces them. In his theory of “Universal Grammar”, he proposes that all languages in the world, despite their superficial differences, follow shared underlying structures that are embedded deep within the human mind—such as the basic sentence components of subject, verb, and object, which appear across languages. Within this fixed structural framework, the capacity to generate infinitely many new sentences exists[1].

Although this view offers a compelling explanation for the human capacity to learn language rapidly, it also raises significant questions. Do these fixed structures and recurring patterns impose limitations on our thinking and creativity, or are they merely frameworks that allow for linguistic and cognitive transformation to emerge from within them? If our mind is constantly seeking out and reproducing recurring patterns, does that mean we are incapable of grasping something entirely new and outside these frameworks? Or perhaps, as Chomsky suggests, the mind’s recurring patterns—though repetitive—can themselves become the ground for generating novel structures. This question, which concerns the boundary between repetition and transformation in cognition, leads us to consider Daniel Dennett’s views on the role of evolution in shaping the mind and cognition.

Daniel Dennett takes the idea of pre-determined patterns to a more fundamental level, examining them through the lens of biological and cultural evolution. From his perspective, repetition is not merely a tool for understanding the world but a fundamental mechanism for the survival of humans and other living beings. In his theory of the “Darwinian algorithm”, he argues that cognition is the result of repetitive processes of natural selection: the human mind, like living organisms, has evolved through trial and error, eliminating ineffective options and reinforcing successful behaviors[2]. According to Dennett, even creative thought and innovation are nothing more than new combinations of preexisting patterns. The human mind, much like a machine-learning system, receives information from the environment, stores successful patterns, and recombines them when confronted with new problems. Unlike Chomsky, Dennett emphasizes that our mental patterns are not innate, fixed, or predetermined but develop dynamically through repeated interactions with the environment.

In this context, David Chalmers, in opposition to views like Dennett’s, raises a deeper question: Is consciousness the same as the brain’s information-processing activities, or is it something that goes beyond neural patterns? By introducing the “hard problem of consciousness”[3], Chalmers argues that consciousness cannot be reduced to repetitive neural processes and information processing in the brain. Even if we could describe the brain’s functioning as an information-processing system, this still would not explain why each act of processing is accompanied by a subjective experience—what he calls qualia—that is wholly personal and non-transferable. For example, when we look at an apple, the brain processes color, shape, and visual data, but why does this processing produce the subjective feeling of “seeing red”? Why, when we listen to music, do we not merely perceive a sequence of air vibrations but experience something akin to “pleasure”? Chalmers argues that no scientific theory has yet managed to explain why qualia exist or how they emerge from physical brain activity. If Chalmers is correct, the question arises: Is there something at a fundamental level of reality that is essentially non-repetitive? Could consciousness be an emergent phenomenon that does not follow any prior pattern?

Graham Harman extends this discussion from a question of cognition into metaphysics. He asks whether we perceive reality as it truly is, or only have access to a limited, human-filtered reflection of it. Can our cognition—which is always structured through recurring patterns of thought and language—ever see beyond itself? Or is the mind like a machine that functions only according to preexisting patterns, trapped within a closed loop?

Accordingly, Harman argues that anthropocentrism in philosophy traps us in the belief that reality is simply what the human mind perceives. While human cognition represents only the surface of things, their real essence lies beyond such representations. This view expands the cognitive limitations raised by Chalmers and introduces the question of whether our mental patterns present a distorted picture of reality. If so, it becomes plausible that our cognition does not mirror reality but instead serves as a mechanism for simplifying and processing it.

Harman’s object-oriented metaphysics[4] is grounded in rejecting anthropocentrism in philosophy. In Western thought—from empiricists to idealists—human cognition has consistently been treated as the standard for analyzing reality. But according to Harman, this perspective confines us to understanding the world only through limited representations, not as it truly is. What we experience of objects and phenomena is merely their surface, not their real essence. Our cognition is not a direct window into reality but something closer to the shadows on the wall of Plato’s cave—distorted reflections of a world whose true nature lies beyond the reach of human understanding.

But if this is the case—if reality transcends human cognition, and if individual understanding is confined within repetitive frameworks—might not social and discursive structures also be reproduced in closed cycles? Is what we call “social reality” itself a product of recurring patterns shaped by discourses of power and ideology, much like our mental representations of the world? This question carries us from metaphysics into the social and historical domain. It shows that the discussion of repetition and its patterns pertains not only to cognition and consciousness but also to our understanding of society and history.

Slavoj Žižek argues that we are not only trapped in cognitive patterns but also caught in recurring ideological cycles—often without even being aware of it. Drawing on Lacan[5], Žižek shows that ideology is not merely a set of conscious beliefs but an unconscious structure that frames our thinking[6]. Even when we believe we have transcended ideology, it is still reproduced through language, culture, and mechanisms of power. From here, Žižek turns to the role of repetition in history: How revolutions, social movements, and political changes often amount to reconstructions of the same underlying structures—new in appearance but similar in function. Even when we think we have transcended a particular intellectual order, we continue to think within the same previous frameworks. This is why political and social revolutions often end up reproducing the same power relations in a new form. He applies this analysis to modern capitalism as well: how capitalism, even in times of severe crisis, continually regenerates itself because the proposed alternatives inadvertently operate within the same old patterns[7].

But is it possible to break these cycles of repetition? Can we move beyond the intellectual, linguistic, and political structures that entrap us? Alain Badiou, in response to the determinism of repetition, introduces the concept of the “Event”—a moment that arises not from the existing structure but from a genuine rupture within the established order, enabling transformation. Badiou contends that every intellectual or social system has a matrix of stabilized rules and frameworks that continually reproduce themselves. Yet in certain historical moments, a sudden rupture occurs—a revolution that destabilizes power structures, a scientific discovery that reshapes the boundaries of knowledge, or a personal experience that diverts a life from its familiar path. These events create points at which it becomes possible to transcend repetition[8].

But Badiou warns that an event, in itself, does not guarantee change. More important than the event is “fidelity to the event”—how individuals and societies continue the trajectory of transformation and resist being reabsorbed into previous cycles. A revolution can establish a new order, but does this new order not risk becoming simply another cycle of repetition?[9]

The question of the possibility of change is not merely philosophical; it is a challenge we confront in the modern world. Whereas Badiou emphasizes moments of rupture and new possibility, Byung-Chul Han, in his critique of digital capitalism, shows how—even in a world that celebrates novelty—exhausting patterns of repetition continue to dominate society. Today, there is no need for direct oppression. Individuals voluntarily become trapped in an endless cycle of production, consumption, and reproduction. Han argues that in digital capitalism, we are no longer workers in physical factories but inhabitants of an invisible, borderless factory that uses our time, emotions, and thoughts as raw materials.

Every moment of life is now transformed into data with economic value. With every click, post, search, and like, we not only define ourselves but reinforce capitalism. Whether we are working or resting, studying or playing, the system benefits from our presence. Even protests, movements, and expressions of dissatisfaction do not necessarily challenge the system but instead become part of the same cycle of production and consumption. Has the contemporary world left any room for genuine events, or are we experiencing only an endless reconstruction of the same old structures in a new form?

Han shows that in this current order, freedom is an illusion[10]. Unlike in the past, no one forces us to work; instead, driven by obsessions with productivity, efficiency, and visibility, we constantly push ourselves. People voluntarily reproduce their identities within frameworks that are already designed. We believe ourselves to be free, yet we are in fact trapped in an endless network of repetition. So how can we escape this closed circuit? Is there a way to live beyond this constant reproduction?

While Han sees modern society as trapped in invisible determinisms, Arendt remains hopeful about the power of change and resistance. Hannah Arendt, in her analysis of “new beginnings”, argues that genuine moments of change do not arise from within established structures but from actions that are unpredictable and transcend habitual patterns. She believes that humanity’s capacity for beginning anew is not merely another form of reproduction but the element that frees history from the determinism of repetition. Perhaps the question is not how to escape repetition but how to find within it the possibility of beginning again[11].

In conclusion, imagining a world with no recurring patterns is a complex and challenging endeavor. Repetition operates not only at the level of cognition but also in politics, economics, and culture as a stabilizing yet transformative force. Although recurring patterns can trap us in closed cycles, as Arendt and Badiou have shown, the possibility of rupture and new beginnings is always present. Perhaps the question is not how to escape repetition but how to transform it into a foundation for innovation and change. The question of the possibility of transformation is a fundamental one in human experience—one that, as history shows, is itself bound to repeat.

[1] Noam Chomsky states that the fundamental structures of language are innate to the human mind and that all languages share common principles.
Example: In English, the sentence structure is Subject–Verb–Object (SVO) (e.g., She eats an apple), whereas in Japanese it is Subject–Object–Verb (SOV) (She an apple eats). These differences are superficial, but they reveal the underlying universal structure shared by all human languages.

[2] Daniel Dennett introduced this concept in Darwin’s Dangerous Idea (1995). He argues that the process of natural selection can be described as an algorithm that, without any need for intelligent design, produces the evolution of living beings through repetition, variation, and selection. This idea shows that simple algorithms can generate complex and seemingly intelligent outcomes without the involvement of a conscious agent.
Example: Genetic evolution can be understood as an algorithm in which random mutations (variation), differential survival and reproduction (selection), and the transmission of genes (repetition) lead to the formation of new species.

[3] The Hard Problem of Consciousness

[4] Object-oriented metaphysics refers to a philosophical approach that holds that beings and objects possess real existence and essence independently of the human mind or human experience. This view emphasizes that objects exist not merely as mental concepts or constructs but independently of us, with properties that are separate from how humans perceive or interact with them.

[5] Inspired by Freud, Lacan divides the structure of the psyche into three fundamental orders:

The Imaginary: the realm of identity and fantasy formed in the mirror stage, where the child constructs an imaginary image of the self.
The Symbolic: entry into language, laws, and social structures, which define the individual within society but always involve a sense of “lack.”
The Real: that which lies beyond language and symbols and can never be fully known, yet emerges in moments of crisis or trauma.

[6] Žižek extends Lacan’s three orders to the analysis of ideology, politics, and contemporary culture. He shows that ideology operates like the Symbolic order: it makes reality “bearable” for us, yet there is always a lack or a repressed element (the Real) that surfaces during moments of crisis. For this reason, Žižek insists that examining ideological structures requires Lacanian analysis, because ideology—like language—not only limits us but also provides a way of experiencing and understanding the world.

[7] Žižek notes that even when people sincerely attempt to build new political or economic structures—such as during periods of economic or social crisis—capitalism continuously reproduces itself. He often refers to global financial crises (such as the 2008 economic crisis), which seemed to bring capitalism to the brink of collapse. Yet in practice, only minor adjustments were made within the same older structures, resulting in a new configuration of power and capital that preserved the essential characteristics of the previous system.

[8] “An event is something that does not fit within a given situation, yet transforms it; a moment in which a new truth emerges and reveals the possibility of a different world.” (From Being and Event, 1988)

[9] “An event establishes a truth only when a subject remains faithful to it. Without such fidelity, the event becomes merely a passing disturbance that is eventually absorbed back into the existing order.” (From Ethics: An Essay on the Understanding of Evil, 1993)

[10] “Contemporary society calls itself free, but in reality we are trapped in a system of control and self-exploitation that we mistake for freedom.” (From The Burnout Society, 2010)

[11] “This capacity for beginning, which quite literally arrives with every human birth, is the gift that ensures history is never entirely predictable. For unlike other things, human beings are capable of initiating something entirely new.” (From The Human Condition, 1958)