Adrian Lee is an editor in The Globe and Mail’s Opinion section.
To drive down to Rehoboth Beach is to see America in metaphor.
Along Delaware’s Route 1, the Stars and Stripes hang from every overpass, making explicit that patriotism is infrastructure here. Pass by a barn with “BIDEN” emblazoned on its side, and a sign farther down offering a rickety “THANK YOU MR. TRUMP,” and you’ll have checked your politics at the door. Sprawling outlet malls provide unnervingly cheap retail therapy, made cheaper by the proudly tax-free “First State”; big-box stores ask visitors to “kindly refrain from openly carrying a firearm”; quiet churches sit a bridge away from gay clubs.
Then you’re greeted by soft sand dunes and perfect bodyboarding waves in the crisp Atlantic waters. This July 4, along the city’s cheerful boardwalk, people in red, white and blue packed the beach and enjoyed salt-water taffy, sprinkle-smothered soft-serve and thick-cut fries. Americans seeking to affirm their right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness could do worse than to declare independence on Rehoboth Beach.
Its getaway spirit predates its founding. Well before a Methodist priest built a seaside resort to restore body and soul in the 1870s, the Lenni Lenape and other Indigenous peoples would fish and relax here in the summers. After all those years, there may not be a better place in America to slip off the crass tumult of real life – not to mention the shadow of November’s contentious presidential election.
“We have no interest in politics here in Rehoboth Beach,” Stan Mills, the city’s mayor, told me. “Vacationers come here to have fun, to relax and enjoy themselves, so they put the weightiness of national politics behind them.”
Even Joe Biden does it. In 2017, the proud Delawarean bought a US$2.7-million home in a leafy, quiet neighbourhood just a half-hour’s walk north of the more homely boardwalk. That compound has become the Summer White House, where the President recuperated last month after two trips to Europe before preparing for his debate against Donald Trump. Rehoboth has been calling itself “the nation’s summer capital” ever since politicians and aides (including Richard Nixon, before he was president) started vacationing there to escape Washington, D.C.’s machinations in the 1950s; today, visits by the leader of the free world have made the nickname literal.
But this Independence Day, Rehoboth Beach’s chill-out vibe felt more like a chilling effect – as if the self-imposed separation from politics was only lightly masking anxiety and resentments. At restaurant tables across the city, people hesitantly read news alerts aloud from their phones – the Supreme Court’s ruling on presidential immunity, the fallout from Mr. Biden’s disastrous debate – followed by the silence of fellow diners leaving well enough alone. Nearly every time I asked someone about the election, they nervously grimaced, as if someone had kicked sand in their face. Why risk ruining a perfectly nice time?
“They’re a little bit afraid,” said Marge LaFond, the programs manager at the Rehoboth Beach Museum who has lived here for 47 years. Then, she lowered her voice: “You just – you don’t know who you’re talking to.”
Even Rehoboth’s seamy souvenir shops decided that politics were off the table this year. The stores, whose cheap printed T-shirts hold a mirror up to the soul of America, typically line the boardwalk with nihilist Trump and Biden memes, among other sordid slogans and popular IP. But this summer, MAGA and Dark Brandon were gone, leaving only shirts professing love for “Hot Moms” or the partisanship-defying Taylor Swift.
“I don’t want some guy starting a debate with me like I care about politics. I’m here to make money,” said Igal Cohen, the owner of the store South Beach. The former Quebecker told me he’d unstocked all political shirts months ago because it wasn’t worth the trouble – the first time he’d done that ahead of an election in his two-plus decades at the shop. “I want to sell Trump stuff and the Trump stuff sells, that’s the bottom line. Nobody asks us for Biden stuff.” (For his part, Mr. Cohen, a Trump supporter who repeatedly told me that he believes the election was stolen, said that “most people here think like me, but they don’t want to get into politics, because the other side, for some reason, they become so aggressive and defensive.”)
Avoiding politics might feel like peacekeeping. But in a 2022 New York Times/Siena poll, 46 per cent of Americans said they feel less free to express political opinions. A 2020 Pew survey found that nearly half of U.S. adults stopped talking to someone about the topic because of something they said. Despite experts and psychologists insisting that openly discussing politics is good, trust among Americans has continued to plunge.
Of course, no place is truly immune from politics. After the tourists leave Rehoboth to return to reality, this paradise still has to deal with the profanity of its own local political issues, including a budget deficit and concerns about development. If the mayor is right about the city’s political disinterest, that may have a democratic price, too; last year, he and two other council candidates were acclaimed because not enough people ran. This year, driven by mounting frustrations, there are enough council aspirants to hold a vote. “To be honest with you,” Mr. Mills admits, “one of the reasons is that there’s a little controversy here.”
That’s the thing about trying to bury things; they tend to come up eventually. “Over the past 10 years, there’s been this explosion of emotions that were kept in for some time,” said Ms. LaFond. “I just think that’s very sad.”