The Dutch East Indian betel box

In a somewhat misleadingly named “museum” (it is more accurately the lifelong collection of a wealthy jeweller) in the Sri Lankan coastal city of Galle, there exists a fascinating find. Among the coins, guns, daggers and stoneware, survives a metal case embossed with the letters V.O.C (See main picture). These were the initials of the seventeenth- and eighteenth- century Dutch colonial trading organisation, the Dutch East Indian Company (Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie).

This container was crafted for containing something not of Dutch, or even European origin, but for something that was indigenous to the island of Ceylon at the time: betel. Betel was a naturally-growing plant, the leaf of which was chewed by the locals in religious, ceremonial, and day-to-day rituals.

However, and in contrast to other foreign commodities that European powers made popular by transporting around the world (namely tobacco, coffee, and tea), betel did not achieve global popularity. Why not?

Betel is a psychoactive plant that has been used by the inhabitants of Sri Lanka for at least 2,000 years and it continues to be widely consumed across many parts of Asia today. When chewed, the leaves act as a mild stimulant. The nut of another plant (areca) is imbibed in tandem with the betel, often also in conjunction with tobacco and slaked lime (calcium hyrdoxide). This forms a “quid” or parcel of the four ingredients.[1] In Sri Lanka, one can typically purchase one of these from street-side vendors for the equivalent of about 20p.

Scientific research has shown that chewing betel, as with chewing tobacco and with smoking, is carcinogenic and can contribute to a multitude of diseases.[2] However, for obvious reasons this was not known by seventeenth-century Europeans. So this cannot explain why the plant failed to achieve widespread assimilation in the West. Indeed, indigenous groups throughout eastern Asia praised its supposed medicinal virtues – similar to the relationship that Native Americans sustained with tobacco.

A more convincing answer for the lack of worldwide assimilation of betel could be that betel lacks the same addictive qualities as tobacco.

On the other hand, “addiction” can be a hugely problematic term for historians. The daily habit of chewing betel could be enough to incur an addiction of sorts; both from the high that the plant induced, and from the social functions that betel served between fellow consumers. Moreover, historians of tobacco have sought to move beyond any so-called “biological determinism” argument to explain tobacco’s spread.[3] This is because by focusing solely on the intrinsic properties of substances, the idiosyncrasies of different cultures throughout time and space are not taken into account.

Another possible explanation, and one that fits much of the historiography of the period [4], relates to the form and structure of betel chewing. Masticating the leaf and nut produces much saliva. Consumers are forced to spit regularly. Chewing also produces a characteristic red stain in the teeth and gums of its practitioners. To many (modern) Europeans eyes, the habit of betel-chewing is messy at best, and at worst, unsavoury.