Insights
The sleights of hand that conflate consumption with virtue are a central theme in “A Thirst for
Empire,” a sweeping and richly detailed history of tea by the historian Erika Rappaport. How did
tea evolve from an obscure “China drink” to a universal beverage imbued with civilizing
properties? The answer, in brief, revolves around this conflation, not only by profit-motivated
marketers but also by a wide variety of interest groups. While abundant historical records have
allowed the study of how tea itself moved from east to west, Rappaport is focused on the
movement of the idea of tea to suit particular purposes.
Beginning in the 1700s, the temperance movement advocated for tea as a pleasure that cheered
but did not inebriate, and industrialists soon borrowed this moral argument in advancing their
case for free trade in tea (and hence more open markets for their textiles). Factory owners joined
in, compelled by the cause of a sober workforce, while Christian missionaries discovered that tea
“would soothe any colonial encounter”. During the Second World War, tea service was presented
as a social and patriotic activity that uplifted soldiers and calmed refugees.
But it was tea’s consumer-directed marketing by importers and retailers—and later by brands—
that most closely portends current trade debates. An early version of the “farm to table”
movement was sparked by anti-Chinese sentiment and concerns over trade deficits, as well as
by the reality and threat of adulterated tea containing dirt and hedge clippings. Lipton was soon
advertising “from the Garden to Tea Cup” supply chains originating in British India and
supervised by “educated Englishmen”. While tea marketing always presented direct consumer
benefits (health, energy, relaxation), tea drinkers were also assured that they were participating
in a larger noble project that advanced the causes of family, nation, and civilization.
Rappaport’s treatment of her subject is refreshingly apolitical. Indeed, it is a virtue that readers
will be unable to guess her political orientation: both the miracle of markets and capitalism’s dark
underbelly are evident in tea’s complex story, as are the complicated effects of British
colonialism. Commodity histories are now themselves commodities: recent works investigate
cotton, salt, cod, sugar, chocolate, paper, and milk. And morality marketing is now a commodity
as well, applied to food, “fair trade” apparel, and eco-tourism. Yet tea is, Rappaport makes clear,
a world apart—an astonishing success story in which tea marketers not only succeeded in
conveying a sense of moral elevation to the consumer but also arguably did advance the cause
of civilization and community.
I have been offered tea at a British garden party, a Bedouin campfire, a Turkish carpet shop, and
a Japanese chashitsu, to name a few settings. In each case, the offering was more an idea—
friendship, community, respect—than a drink, and in each case, the idea then created a reality. It
is not a stretch to say that tea marketers have advanced the particularly noble cause of human
dialogue and friendship.
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