I have come across several different possible explanations for the repetition compulsion in the literature. There is a considerable ambiguity about what repetition compulsion actually covers, since some would include PTSD style flashbacks and nightmares in the category. For me, repetition compulsion requires that an individual’s actual behaviour appears directed towards replicating an earlier trauma. There is a distinctly tragic aspect to this, since the behaviour in question is not recognised as having this intention by the person. In the words of Paul Russell,”

The repetition compulsion is the repetition of that which, so far as we know, we would far rather not repeat. This covers a lot of ground. It can be a very simple affair, or extraordinarily complex. It can be of such complexity and power that one has the impression that it is the act of an intelligence that is more than a match for one’s own. It can at times operate like a doom, a nemesis, a curse. The same thing will happen, again and again, despite one’s best efforts at avoidance, prevention, control. In fact, it gets its name precisely on this account; that despite the apparent wish to avoid the pain, the cost, the injury of the repetition, one finds oneself repeating nonetheless, as if drawn to some fatal flame, as if governed by some malignant attraction which one does not know and cannot comprehend or control. It has, in other words, all of the external earmarks of a volitional act, and yet the person is unaware of wishing any such thing. In fact, quite the contrary; he or she would wish to avoid it.” (from Trauma, Repetition and Affect)

I like this description, it fits my understanding well. However, Paul Russell then goes on to give his explanation which he describes as “a mathematics of competence”. The underlying idea is that “You have to keep doing it until you get it right.” The original trauma causes a disruption in some developmental process that leaves an area of affective immaturity, and the repetition compulsion is driven by our psychological need to complete the developmental task. Within this frame, it only seems demonic because all previous attempts up until now have failed. However, once the task is mastered, we would then reframe all the painful prior repetitions as just “practice”. To use his analogy, while learning to parallel turn on the ski slope, each attempt at throwing our energy forward over our skis to switch edges feels like we are surrendering to a demonic act of self-sacrifice, and leaves us freshly bruised and at the bottom of a pile of snow.  Each attempt, that is, until the one when we complete the turn, and feel the rush of success. A few days of practice later and we wonder what the trouble was about.

Its a seductive analogy, not least because it reframes the repetition compulsion in such a positive light. I have learnt to ski and I remember how appaullingly frightening was the necessary surrendering of control required to broaden my envelope of confidence. But for me it doesn’t really square with the quoted section above. To extend that to the analogy of skiing, I would suggest that it would be more akin to the experience of skiing down a slope with a single tree at the bottom of it. All we have to do is avoid the tree. We are certain it is a task that it well within our capabilities. And yet as we work down the slope, various “critical decisions” require us to change course. First we think we see a patch of ice ahead so we turn early, bringing us a little closer to the tree, but still at a safe distance. Next we get a cramp in our leg that requires another change of weight, which strangely seems to bring us more in line with the tree. However we still have plenty of time to avoid it. Then we are overcome by the pressing fear that we forgot to turn off the oven before we left the house, absorbing us in thought for 3 seconds. At the moment critique, just as we are about to luckily avoid the tree that seems to have ended up rather closer than we anticipated, we stick our pole into the snow and run over it with our ski, forcing our trajectory directly into the aforementioned conifer. Sitting looking back up at the slope, we remember each event, each decision, how fervently we wished to avoid the tree at all costs, and yet, we can’t help but be puzzled by the path of our descent, revealed in the snow. It really looks like we could not possibly have been trying to do anything other than ski directly into the tree. While scratching our head’s and waiting for someone to call the air ambulance, we catch sight of a pair of child’s skiing goggles stuck in the tree. Imagine our confusion when we reach up to pull them out only to discover that they have our name sewn into them, the very pair of goggles that we must have been wearing when we took that family ski-trip all those years ago, the one which we don’t remember but that left us with a broken nose and a strange and inexplicable fear of fir trees… Later on, in hospital, with casts on both legs and a gloomy prognosis, we tell the story to our nurse, to which she remarks, “well, you must certainly have wanted those goggles back.”

I guess this is why Freud decided, after considerable reflection, that there simply could not be any utility to the repetition compulsion and invented the concept of “thanatos” the “death drive” to explain it. Frankly if I had to make a choice between these two explanations, I’m down with the thanatos.

However, there is another explanation that I prefer. Coming soon in “the repetition compulsion -revisited again”