The Philosophy of Caffeine

In the era of Spain’s Civil War (1936-1939), some Spanish anarchist groups sought to abolish the consumption of alcohol, tobacco, and even coffee. It is an oft-noted paradox of progressive revolutionary platforms that, in championing liberation, they tend to adopt some remarkably restrictive limits for the exercise of that liberty. Alcohol and tobacco are one thing, but what’s so bad about coffee that the most radical champions of personal freedom would seek to outlaw it?

I initially assumed that Spanish leftists probably associated coffee with capitalist exploitation, regarding it as a means by which the bourgeoisie could increase the proletariat’s economic output and, by extension, its own profits. Analyses of the phenomenon stress instead the general puritanism of many radical groups, implying that all mind-altering substances were regarded as antithetical to the calm and measured reasoning on which any decentralized agrarian collective inevitably depends. That’s probably more accurate, but I think my initial hunch also offers some insight into the cultural significance of coffee and other sources of caffeine.

The uses of tea as a caffeinated stimulant were discovered over four thousand years ago in ancient China. Coffee was first brewed for the same purpose much more recently, though at least as early as the 15th century AD, in Yemen and Ethiopia. An Ethiopian legend claims that a goat herder first discovered the stimulating effects of coffee beans when he noticed how energetic his goats became after eating them.

According to Statista, global coffee consumption reached almost 176 million 60 kilogram bags in 2022. The international coffee chain Starbucks, which was born in my hometown of Seattle, generated a revenue of almost $36 billion in 2023. Worldwide tea consumption measured approximately 6.7 billion kilograms that same year. The global market for energy drinks, not including coffee and tea, is expected to reach $86.1 billion by 2027. One can almost taste the despair of those long-dead Spanish anarchists of the 1930s.

I did not start drinking coffee until my junior year of college, when an early-morning class finally drove me to conformity. Ten years later, I am one of the countless millions who cannot function well without a certain amount of caffeine every morning. Without it, I become lethargic and agitated throughout the day. Coffee makes me not only more energetic but also mentally sharper, more attuned to detail, more productive and confident.

The longstanding popularity of coffee and other caffeinated beverages demonstrates that these and other benefits hold a near-universal appeal. Although capitalism is a relatively recent phenomenon, probably all economic systems have always benefited from increased worker productivity. Yet its appeal at the individual level cannot be explained by its influence on labor productivity alone. One need not be employed to enjoy caffeine; likewise, many economic systems, historically and contemporarily, do not reward individual productivity as much as capitalism, yet caffeine is probably just as popular in these societies. Like other mind-altering substances, caffeine’s potential as a stimulant has always made it controversial. Coffee was initially condemned by many Catholic clergy when it first came to Europe in the 16th century. The controversy was settled when Pope Clement VIII tested the brew himself and found it so satisfying that he gave it his blessing as an alternative to alcohol.

Speaking of alcohol, it is an oft-noted fact in the history of coffee consumption that the emergence of coffeehouses in Europe paved the way to the Enlightenment by creating a space where members of all social classes and backgrounds could gather to exchange ideas. Maybe so, but why did these ideas not emerge in the taverns and other popular gathering places in the same period or earlier? Perhaps these settings did not facilitate as much mingling between various social groups, but on the other hand, alcohol has always been good at inspiring radical rhetoric and wild new ideas (which the developments of the Enlightenment were, in their own time).

The difference is that alcohol does not facilitate clearer thinking, and the inventions of a drunken mind are typically forgotten with the return of soberness. Coffee, by stimulating the minds and exchanges of its consumers in egalitarian settings, instead facilitated constructive debate and creativity. Alcohol reduces us to our Dionysian, primitive state where there is less to differentiate us individually because our more basic needs and urges are broadly the same. This is why the Christian communion ritual uses wine to bring congregants together, and this was explicitly part of the reason why the clergy initially regarded coffee, imported from the Islamic world, as a satanic threat. To stimulate the mind is to stimulate individuality, to sharpen the Apollonian thinking processes that make us unique as individuals. This is what coffee has done for entire civilizations for hundreds of years now.

We have seen how caffeine consumption is motivated, in part, by the production incentive of the capitalist system. Modern capitalism was, of course, heavily shaped by the Enlightenment, meaning there is a circle of cause and effect at work here. This explains, in part, why the most radical of sociopolitical radicals tried to get rid of coffee and other disruptive influences: Revolutionaries, for all their radicalism, always have a deeply conservative side, especially if they succeed in overthrowing the governing system or otherwise creating a space where they can practice their ideals. Once this state has been achieved, there is no desire for further disruption.

Caffeine can therefore be seen as a fundamentally disruptive influence, even though its effects are milder and less immediately destructive than those of alcohol. Pope Clement would presumably never have given coffee his blessing had he foreseen how it would contribute to the rise of ideas that would eventually destroy the worldly power of the Church and overthrow the old political order. Caffeine goes hand-in-hand with new ideas, innovation, imagination, debate, criticism, and introspection. The US may be more associated with these in part because of the popularity of coffee here. The American Revolution was sparked, after all, by a tax on tea, and tea, with its lower caffeine content, has been less popular here ever since. Hence the cliché that Americans drink coffee while the British drink tea (although the UK actually consumes more coffee than tea as well).

Of course, there can always be too much of a good thing. It’s all very well to exchange ideas, but too much disagreement can lead to deadlock and stagnation. This national preoccupation with speed, urgency, and loudness, qualities associated with caffeine, seems reflected in America’s obsession with fast automobiles, fast food, faster internet, retail therapy, gadgetry, guns, pop music, and general shallow extraversion. It’s one thing to value your job and consume some caffeine so you can do it well; it’s another to obsess over one’s job, working unhealthily long hours and consuming vast amounts of caffeine to keep up. There are surely workaholics everywhere, but, in keeping with America’s consumer capitalist culture, it seems to be a particularly American phenomenon. A guest lecturer in a population issues course I took in college once said that Europeans work to live, while Americans live to work.

America’s (or perhaps capitalism’s) obsession with caffeine is unlikely to abate anytime soon. As more jobs are threatened by outsourcing and artificial intelligence, workers will only become more competitive, and therefore more reliant on external stimulants to increase their individual economic output. Along with increased demand for caffeine, it would not be surprising to see the market for illegal, stimulatory narcotics grow rapidly in the coming decades.

Is there a way out of this vicious circle? In all probability, no. As long as it is economically expedient, the marginalization of the worker will continue. AI might allow humans to avoid becoming economically irrelevant through innovations in biotechnology that could allow us to compete with computers, but this will mean making our minds faster and sharper in precisely the ways for which we currently use caffeine (but to a greater extent). This process, if it occurs, will probably not make caffeine irrelevant. The incentive to provide and consume additional stimulants will remain as strong as ever.

The demand for alcohol is also unlikely to decrease as the economy and the job market become increasingly uncertain. Alcohol, like caffeine but more infamously, can be a dangerous force when not handled in moderation. Like caffeine, it can also be a force for good when used properly. The city of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, has the third-lowest violent crime rate of any major city in the United States, even though—or perhaps because—it has the highest number of bars per capita.

In other words, while many people can get by without caffeine, others without alcohol, and some without both, the enduring importance of both underscores the well-worn dichotomy of our Apollonian and Dionysian characteristics. The key to social order lies in finding the right balance between the two. As long as we continue to need our Apollonian side, and continue to need help accessing it at will, caffeine will retain its appeal.