De Facto Times

Cape Cod is one of only a few unique cases. It is one of the very few parts of the United States whose conceptual form seems to have largely met its idealized form. I shall explain what I intend to mean by both of these terms. I would define conceptual form as the standard(s) that people strive for or are expected to strive for in regard to culture and its aspects. The conceptual form of a culture abstractifies an average sense of a culture’s physical attributes. Meanwhile, the idealized form would be a conceptual form that manifests in a maximally good way. So, has Cape Cod achieved idealized form? Such was the supposition I had proposed before discussion among peers sparked an even more poignant point of contention: is Cape Cod actually an idealized form, or a superficial and shallow facade of a culture?

In a country replete with for-profit corporate dullness that serves to dilute our idealized form and pollute our conceptual form, it is rare to find a section of the country that exhibits an idealized form that is unique to its own local culture, but also distinctly and unmistakably American. Yet where the rest of the country fails, Cape Cod seems to have succeeded. Cape Cod defined the East Coast American beachside through the consistent maintenance of culture as seen through its nature, architecture, motifs, and history. Even its churches conform to the Cape Cod style in their own unique and composite manner. 

The delineation of artifice should begin with the delineation of nature. Cape Cod succeeds in understanding this. When the grass bellows down into shrub-littered dunes of sand, when seagulls fly overhead and seals and whales swim the waters, when the ocean’s salt permeates the air—that is when you know you have entered Cape Cod. As Henry David Thoreau once described, “Everything told of the sea, even when we did not see its waste or hear its roar” (Thoreau 25). This is when the culture of Cape Cod makes itself present.

Any visitor or local could tell you that the houses of Cape Cod are distinctly different from most places. In fact, the classic North American house is called a Cape Cod house. Yet, the ones Cape Cod actually boasts are distinct in color and form. Architectural Digest describes the Cape Cod house: “Traditionally, they’re small, single- or one-and-a-half-story homes with steeply pitched, side-gabled roofs, central chimneys, dormer windows, and clad in shingles.” The design conforms to necessity, but it is nonetheless beautiful. It derives from the early, colonial English style, but was built to withstand the seaside climate. Its wooden shingles tend to be gray and its siding white, with simple designs and rustic brown interiors. Yet, a lack of traditional ornateness does not mean the houses don’t have their own ways of detail or that they are generally lacking as a result.

Cape Cod is full of charming symbolism, often through knick-knacks that spruce up interiors. Motifs are an integral aspect of cultures. Humans are very oriented towards symbolism, and thus, they become important and simple means of encouraging cultural unity. Symbols often harken back to the history of a nation in some important manner, whether to a royal family, a battle or event, a religious item, or a piece of a common profession. Being a coastal area, the profession Cape Cod derives from is that of the fisherman and the nature of the sea. We may observe designs with lighthouses, birds, boats, seashells, lobsters, anchors, and more. These are the motifs of Cape Cod. To confirm, I counted every item with some kind of lighthouse motif in the summer house at which I stayed, resulting in a shocking 125 items. These included paintings, benches, clocks, coasters, plates, outlets, signs, fridge magnets, soap canisters, books, table ornaments, among many, many more. These symbols are beautiful; they are a reminder of place, but also a rallying cry of community.

Cultural Superficiality

But is the over-plastering of symbols denoting location really a contribution to culture? Do more symbols actually mean more culture? A friend suggested that the aspects I described regarding Cape Cod’s unique culture, in particular the symbols, are superficial. Cape Cod, he argued, is a collection of vacation homes for the wealthy—an aesthetic they wear for an ephemeral moment with little substance. What differentiates Cape Cod from Disneyland? Calling Cape Cod a microcosm of the idealized form is like suggesting that we should all live in theme parks. There are several retorts that may be made to this point, but its criticism is nonetheless valid, and it is thus worth exploring what this superficiality means.

Would a year-round resident of Cape Cod line their house with 125 lighthouse-themed items? It’s not impossible that they might have the same infatuation, but at the very least, the frequency might be lower. When a culture seeks trade or tourism, incentives are created to simplify or even change cultural aspects to become congruent with foreign expectations, thereby maximizing profit. Pizza in Italy is a prime example of such a phenomenon. Originally a meek dish of the South, popularity in the United States led Americans to expect pizza when tourism in Italy rose. Thus, the number of pizza shops in Italy skyrocketed and became a known fixture of Italian culture. Yet, with such a widespread fixture, one might argue that there is a resulting “cultural flattening” wherein local specialty or the opportunity for local specialty is replaced by the expected, widespread motif (in this case, pizza in parts of Italy where it once did not exist). Such a phenomenon is a mode by which global monoculture may occur, but also nationwide monoculture in the case of both Italy and Cape Cod. Some worry that nationwide monoculture via superficiality will reduce local cultures to shallow peaks with little depth underneath the iceberg, destroying diversity.

Yet, the consistent population of Cape Cod is not zero. A bumper sticker truck two days after our discussion recalled this fact, informing passing readers that there were people who live in Cape Cod year-round and implying that guests must respect their space and not treat the region carelessly. There is an active body of people who live the Cape Cod culture, as well as a history of the culture that predates the superficiality. In fact, much of Cape Cod’s “superficial” aspects are a commemoration of its real history. And, even if many of its motifs have been over-amplified to appeal to tourists and part-year visitors, such appeal does not preclude the motifs and their history from being significant to the locals. How many Cape Codders revile the sea, lighthouses, and fishermen? I would assume very few. How many Italians despise pizza? I would also assume that number to be a minority.

More generally, much of culture is, or at least is derivative of, the superficial. Cultural superficiality fuels genuine culture and can reinforce it. Pizza may have been superficially imposed in many regions at first, but now it is a commonplace cuisine for native Italians all across the peninsula. Cultural aspects often arise from some degree of superficial mimicry. My brother pointed out in the discussion how aspects of aristocratic culture are often adopted by lower classes, citing the kimono in Japan as an example. Although these aspects may appear to be low-resolution, simplifications of an aspect of culture that were advertised to foreigners, they can also serve to reinforce and build the culture of locals.

Subnational similarities between citizens can also be positive. A friend of mine provided the example of how his father was once certain that when he went off to work, he was sure that all his coworkers would be caught up on the recent episodes of a set of popular shows. All Americans would be. Such a shared memory facilitated communication and bonding between the coworkers, leading to a more pleasant workplace. This similarity has died with the diversification of media consumption and the distancing from having “canon media.” Yet, widespread similarities exist among countrymen, whether it be television shows, pizza, or a love for the nautique, appear to facilitate increased connection, identity, and thereby social wellbeing.

It’s great that Cape Cod touts its motifs. It’s great that they respect their history. It’s great that they respect their nature. It’s great that they have a very solid sense of identity. Many of these have been solidified in part due to tourism, but nonetheless contribute to a “sense of self” for the people who live in Cape Cod. It is true that cultural superficiality can lead to monoculture, but that does not mean the practice of creating cultural superficiality should be discarded altogether. Insofar as the amplified motif (such as lighthouses or pizza) reinforces the local culture rather than flattens it, cultural superficiality can be positive, and may even help a culture reach its idealized form.