Nature's Evil [calibre 5.27.0]
- Автор: Эткинд Александр Маркович
- Год: 2022
- Язык: английский
- Год: Wiley
- Переводчик: Sara Jolly
- Жанр: История
Электронная книга - «Nature's Evil [calibre 5.27.0]». Краткое содержание книги:
FIVE
Fibres
Unlike metals or fossil fuels, fibres are a product of organic life which has grown on the earth very recently. Some animals and plants produce long, sturdy filaments as part of their bodies. These can be harvested and then mechanically processed – cleaned, stretched, interwoven – to make smooth, pliable cloth. These processes don’t change the individual fibres but combine them with thousands of similar ones. So the processing of fibres – spinning, weaving, tailoring – requires the repetition of an enormous number of single, consecutive movements. This had been predominantly women’s work, but then inventors designed machines which could reproduce these small movements more quickly and precisely than human hands. From the time of the Great Silk Road and up until the era of oil and plastic, industry and capitalism consisted for the most part in the processing of fibre and the trading in goods made from fibre.
Unlike grain, which is relatively easy to process, fibre requires two different tasks – first the production of the raw material, which includes its preliminary processing, and then a very elaborate secondary processing. The cultivation of the raw material needs plenty of land, water, sunlight and unskilled labour; on the other hand, the processing requires little land and an abundance of skilled work. For this reason it isn’t practical to cultivate and process fibre in the same place. Mercantile empires would solve this problem by using the land of their distant colonies to produce the fibre and the labour of their metropolitan centres to process it. Transportation was the task of merchant and armed fleets. Fiscal-military states were fibre-producing states; more than anything else they depended on wool and cotton, but their fate was also defined by hemp, flax and silk. Until the advent of railways, the textile industry was ‘the main driving force’ of civilisations, wrote Braudel. 1
Many technologies were common to all fibres. The plant or animal had to be nurtured and the fibre collected; all that was required for this was land, time and labour. The harvested fibre was cleaned – combed, pulled, washed, dried. Once the moisture had been removed from it, it was softened and straightened. This heavy, mostly manual work transformed a damp, dirty raw material into a tradable commodity – a dry material which would keep well and was light to transport. On arrival in the metropole, this material underwent secondary processing. Short filaments had to be twisted together to form one long thread, and the thread had to be wound into balls or hanks and then woven into cloth. It was then sent on to other craftsmen who cut the fabric and stitched it into garments, bedclothes, sails, cables or sacks. In the era of the Silk Road the cost of transporting the material made up almost all of the price of the finished goods. Sea transport lowered the trading outlay; but even during the period of the Industrial Revolution, cotton in Virginia cost 20 per cent less than in Manchester.
Fibre demonstrates the fortuitous link between human needs and nature’s variety. Living creatures are made up of cells; a minute number of these cells elongate into fibres. In order to make thread, these fibres have to be joined to one another – a process that doesn’t happen in nature. An individual cotton fibre is one long cell, which develops in the coating of the cotton seed. The cell twists itself into a microscopic tubule that is hollow inside, which explains why it holds heat so well. But there is more to it. The cell walls that allow it to roll itself into a hollow tube also allow it to curl together with another cell. Joined along their length, these micro-tubules make a flexible and robust thread in which the individual fibres are inseparable – their bonds are just as strong as the individual filaments. 2 These threads can be further rolled together or interwoven to produce cloth. The cloth can be dyed using a complex chemical process requiring different raw materials – natural dyes. The hollow tubules of cotton absorb these dyes better than any other fibre except for silk. But these dyes – violet purple, blue indigo, red cochineal – are also by-products of nature, which evolved them for quite other purposes. In nature, these organic substances would never be anywhere near the cells of silk or cotton.
Silk
In order to obtain 200 grams of silk thread for a shirt, producers had to rear a thousand silkworms and feed them 36 kilograms of mulberry leaves. Then they spent many long hours unravelling the silk cocoons of the larvae into long, unbroken filaments, washing and drying, scutching and combing them before twisting individual filaments into a thread, weaving the thread into cloth and finally sewing a shirt. At first people gathered cocoons from the forest. When the moths hatched, the chemical structure of the cocoon changed and the fibres shortened. It was crucial to unravel the cocoons before that, so people kept them close to the house. About 1600 bce the ancient Eurasians began to plant mulberry and cultivate silkworms in their gardens. This was how the symbiotic trinity of man, mulberry and moth started. The caterpillars eat the mulberry’s leaves but the adult moths pollinate its flowers; the fertilised flowers produce sweet fruits which are eaten by humans, who disperse the seeds; the mulberry grows and needs pollination by moths. Using the silk fibres, humans cocooned themselves from heat, moisture and insects. In due course, this material became an inexhaustible source of beauty, wealth and power. In exchange for these favours, silk required labour, warmth and loyalty and led to the development of settled life, private ownership and global trade.
The ability of the silk moth to overcome the chemical defence of the mulberry tree and the ability of man to clear land to grow this tree created a new ecological niche for all three of them – man, moth and mulberry. But the tree and the moth were more sensitive to climate than man. Outside particular areas in China, India, Japan, Central Asia, Persia and, by the early modern period, Southern Europe, silk proved very difficult to produce. Because of this, silk had always been a monopoly of remote, exotic places. Light to transport, easy to dye, not prone to rotting, silk came from a great distance, was therefore extremely expensive, and proved to be an ideal product for early European trade.
The first silk moth farms appeared round contemporary Peking long before our era. Only the higher echelons of society had the right to wear silk garments; a peasant who dared to wear silk could pay with his life. Silk was used as a currency. The salary of civil servants, and later of army personnel, was calculated in rolls of silk, and commoners paid their taxes in silk. Thus silk products became the embodiment of luxury throughout the civilised world. There were many producers but very few carriers who could lead their caravans across the deserts. The regional monopoly meant that prices could be maintained, producing high profits even with low volumes and extremely long cycles of trade. Hardly anything had more impact on world affairs than this substance secreted by the grubs of a strange insect which ate the leaves of the mulberry tree.