Since being stuck at home, I’ve been drinking an excessive amount of tea. Somewhere around my hundredth cup of the day, I started thinking about how strange it was that such a warm, friendly drink could be the center of so many global conflicts. Tea-related violence persists throughout history, with the most modern manifestation being on plantations. From Japanese feudalism to millennial slang, tea carries a history of drama and aggression.

When you think of tea, you’re bound to think of the British. Tea is a hallmark of British respectability. Yet anything so heavily tied to class and patriotism inadvertently comes with its negativities. Just think of ‘Great Expectations’, where Pip’s poor tea manners condemn him to his lower-class origin. Or Eliot’s ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock’, where associations between genteel society and the bowels of Hell shows repressive domestic convention as only another form of hellish torture.

Great Expectations

Great Expectations: ‘Do you take tea or coffee Mr Gargery?’

Aside from being a domestic staple, tea relates to the dominance of British imperialism. Tea was both an import to colonies (as a way to assert British-ness) and a motivator for the development of trade routes. At its worst, British demand for tea resulted in the Opium Wars, devastating battles with huge social and economic fallout for China. Tea became a symbol for British control (famously rebelled against in the Boston Tea Party, which was as much about rebuking a symbol of British patriotism as it was about taxes/representation).

 

Yet the revolutions associated with tea aren’t all bad. Tea had its role in prompting the industrial revolution, both through its stimulatory properties and the disease-killing process of boiling water. If you believe Fulford and Chrystal, it even gave Victorian women a safe place to develop political agency. The use of tea by women and the working-class transformed the beverage from elitist signifier to symbol of common betterment.

Japanese tea-house

Japanese tea house

Tea also reflects the movement and relationships of people. Early on, this manifested in the Silk Road. Though initially built for trade, it facilitated the exchange of cultural and religious ideas. More recently, even something as simple as tea’s popularity reflects much larger political situations. Pre-WWII, American tea preferences were split evenly between green and black. This statistic drastically changed once the war cut trade between the US and China, leaving Americans with only Indian-produced black tea. Culturally, tea defines much of who we are. In Japan, tea ceremonies remain relevant. In the US, fast-food culture and the rejection of British identity resulted in a preference for sweet iced tea.

As tea is a cornerstone of many cultures, it’s no wonder that it’s led to conflicts. Yet looking at what tea means to us, it’s ultimately a legacy of harmony and connection. Tea origin stories almost always embody Taoist ideas of peace (or more accurately, non-action) over violence. Ancient Chinese scholars used teahouses as forums for discussion, a place where both politics and class were left at the door. Even in Britain, as imperialist as tea became, it’s still a beverage rooted in family and little moments of mindfulness.

If our love of tea stems from a desire for interpersonal connection, why do we so often let it lead into drama? It’s not a question I have an answer to, but one I find worth thinking about, hopefully over a nice cup of tea.

 

 

(If anyone is interested in the history of tea or wants links to extra articles just let me know! I’ve already linked to a few within the text, which should appear as a slightly darker font)