Rehoboth Beach, Delaware is hometown to Joey, peacemaker and defender of the bullied, who also happens to be our president. It also happens to be a great place to see mimesis in action. All beach towns are. Any place devoted to fashion serves that purpose but beaches better than most because most everyone there dresses (or undresses) to make a point. For example, I wore my cool Charm City Bluegrass Festival tee just to make sure anyone checking out this dad bod knows they ought to like bluegrass too.

This year, Rehoboth Beach is also home a new and never before seen type of undifferentiation caused by mimetic rivalry: The Undifferentiated Political Tee.

Mimesis

Mimesis is at the heart of all human relations, says Rene Girard. We want what our neighbors have, or want we think they have or want. We imitate their desires. Imitate, mime, mimetic, mimesis. You see how it goes. Girard prefers ‘mimesis’ to imitative because every good theory deserves a big word.

The imitated one, the one whose desire we mime, he calls a model or mediator. There are two types of mediators: internal and external. External mediators rank so far from their imitators that competition between them. Imitation without rivalry indicates an external mediator. You cannot dunk on LeBron James no matter how much your shoes cost, and he could not be bothered to dunk on you.

Internal mediators and their imitators, on the other hand, rank close enough that they can compete for the desired object, rival each other, butt heads, and sometimes even change places. You might be able to dunk on me. If you do, you can bet I will my best to return the favor.

Mimetic Rivalry  –> Undifferentiation

Rival who imitate each other turn more and more alike as they try to acquire or keep the desired object; they reach a state Girard calls a crisis of undifferentiation. Imagine our dunk fest goes to 11, like a good amp. The score is 10-9, I’m up. You already swapped your lame tee for a Charm City. That helped you close the gap. Your only hope now is to ditch your high top Chuck for my preferred b-ball footgear: flippy floppys. Now we look just alike. Except for the hair; yours is better.

Undifferentiation

Consider this cute pair: a dad and his young son surf splashing while clad in blue and white striped shorts. Who wore blue stripeys first? Hard to say, and it matters not. They enjoy their mimesis. They do not compete. We cannot even imagine them bickering, let alone coming to blows. Dad is an external mediator. Or maybe the son is. They are not rivals; mimesis makes dad more dad-like and the son more son-like, without the one trying to displace the other.

Imitating a good external mediator makes you more yourself. Dad’s youthful, carefree soul shines a little brighter thanks to the matching shorts. HalfPint plays the risk taking adventurer even bolder than before.

Now consider this not-so-cute father-son pair: same bad cap, hair, tee, camo shorts, posture, and knockoff Crocs. Who wore it first? Who wears it best? It does not matter. What are the odds that before they leave the store junior will walk slower than pops just to control the pace, or faster for the same reason? Or that before they leave the beach they argue over something stupid: how to smear the sunblock properly, or which Grotto’s serves better pizza, whether Candy Kitchen fudge is as good as Kilwin’s (which we all know it is not)? Could a hot pepper eating contest, with the accompanying shaming of the loser, be on the table tonight? Likely.

Imitating an internal mediator, no matter how good, leads to rivalry. Undifferentiation both signifies the presence of and causes social crisis.

The Undifferentiated Political Tee

I saw something this week in Rehoboth Beach shops that I never saw before: every political tee is anti-president. That’s a first. The Prez, whoever he is, always inspired haters and lovers alike. Not this year. The politics of the money-spending crowd at Rehoboth Beach is … undifferentiated.

There are no Pro-Joe tees to be seen in the shops. Do you want a closet full of “#FJB”’s? Gotcha covered. How about a “Biden Owes Me Gas Money” for everyone on your Christmas list? Got it. A nice comfy “Traitor Joe,” “Let’s Go Brandon,” or a “Miss Me Yet?” featuring he-who-must-not-be-named? Plenty to go around.

This boutique squats on Rehoboth Ave just a few yards above the boardwalk, and it is leans left. You can tell because forbidden sex slogans (I ♥ Sluts, I ♥ DILFS, Playboy, etc.) decorate its front porch, and shelves full of bongs fill its living room. “Do you sell any pro-Joe tees?” I asked the shop’s bespectacled floor walker. “Nope,” he answered.

The reactionary emporium across the street sells no Joe tees either. Plenty of Trumps though.

This is interesting, and a first: everybody who cares to advertise what they think about the prez, thinks him a senile basement dummy. Not a single shop in Joey’s hometown sells a pro Joe tee because, obviously, not a single person wants to buy one.

The crowd is undifferentiated. Is this the good kind, where we all turn more perfectly our true selves? Or is it the bad kind, where the slightest provocation kicks off a war of all against all that can only be solved through scapegoating?

I think the latter.