In all the time I’ve been a writer, I have a creative partner I’ve never disclosed until now. I have to come clean: this column wouldn’t exist without the invaluable contributions of coffee.
I’m a deep sleeper, and when I wake up in the morning, I feel muddy and slow. I can do basic tasks, but that’s it. I can’t do anything creative, or anything that takes sustained mental effort, until I’ve had my first cup of coffee.
In the summer, I steep cold brew overnight and serve it in a pint glass with frozen coffee ice cubes. On rainy autumn days and cold winter mornings, it’s a steaming hot mug fresh from the French press. Making the day’s coffee is a small ritual: the delicious aroma of the beans, the whir of the grinder, the rising steam. Last of all is a scoop of sugar and a splash of milk, swirling and lightening the bitter black to a creamy brown.
Caffeine is a drug—a psychoactive and addictive one, at that—although we rarely think of it that way.
When that first jolt hits my system, it’s like a ray of sunlight burning through fog. I can almost feel the tide of caffeine molecules washing through my nerve cells. It accelerates my mind, sharpens my thinking. Sometimes I get a euphoric rush of energy, like a rocket lifting off the ground.
I usually have a second cup in the afternoon, to perk me up when I’m on the downhill slope of the day. Sometimes I have black tea or chai instead, which is a gentler sensation—a slow oceanic swell, rather than a jagged burst of energy.
Yes, caffeine is a drug
I tell myself that I drink coffee for the taste and aroma as much as for the mental boost. Then again, that could just be an addict’s self-delusion. Caffeine is a drug—a psychoactive and addictive one, at that—although we rarely think of it that way.
By some estimates, 90% of humans ingest caffeine in some form, which makes it the most widely used psychoactive drug in the world. Its ubiquity makes it seem familiar, and therefore harmless. We even let children consume it in soda and chocolate.
Caffeine doesn’t feel like a drug, because it doesn’t get you high. It doesn’t transport your consciousness or make you hallucinate; it doesn’t fog your senses or lower your inhibitions. If anything, it does the opposite. Caffeine makes me feel more like myself.
Coffee made the Enlightenment possible.
However, caffeine is unmistakably a drug. Like nicotine and capsaicin, it’s a plant alkaloid—a defensive molecule made to deter predators—that we’ve repurposed for our own ends. Caffeine is bitter-tasting and, in large doses, toxic to insects and most mammals. Humans are one of the few species that can metabolize it.
In the brain, caffeine jams the receptors for adenosine, the neurotransmitter that makes us sleepy. When adenosine can’t do its job, we feel more alert and awake. As a secondary effect, it also enhances dopamine activity, which “produces behavioral effects similar to classic… stimulants such as cocaine and amphetamine” (hence, my feelings of euphoria).
Unfortunately, caffeine doesn’t eliminate the need for sleep, only postpones it. The brain eventually figures out that it’s being tricked and amps up its adenosine receptors to compensate. That’s what creates tolerance. If you try to kick the habit, you’re in for days of suffering until your neurons can reset.
The drug of the Enlightenment
If I’m a caffeine addict, then at least I’m in good company. Coffee made the Enlightenment possible.
For centuries, the coffee plant grew only in the Arab world, where Muslims embraced it as an alternative to forbidden alcohol. European travelers and traders discovered it in the early 1600s, and they quickly learned of its virtues. By the 1650s, coffeehouses were spreading across Europe.
London’s coffeehouses were hotbeds of free speech. People met there to hear gossip and business news, to read the latest books and pamphlets, and to discuss politics, philosophy and science. Different coffeehouses specialized in different kinds of patrons: The Grecian, for example, was a favorite spot of scientists and radicals.
Intellectuals like Isaac Newton, Robert Hooke and Edmund Halley went to coffeehouses to give lectures, debates and demonstrations of new discoveries. They were called “penny universities” because, for a penny’s worth of coffee, anyone could listen in and join the conversation.
Coffee made rulers nervous. In 1651, King Charles II ordered the closure of coffeehouses on the grounds that they were nurturing anti-monarchical plots. But the outcry was so great, and the decree so widely ignored, that he was forced to revoke it just eleven days later. In France, philosophers like Rousseau and Diderot gathered in coffeehouses to debate the rights of humanity, and they became ferments of revolutionary thought in the run-up to the French Revolution.
Capitalism as we know it couldn’t exist without caffeine.
It’s not just coffeehouses as social hubs, but coffee itself that birthed the Age of Reason. Famous writer after famous writer extolled its virtues in clarifying thought and quickening creativity. Voltaire was a major coffee addict, as were Kant and Kierkegaard. Denis Diderot compiled his Encyclopedia while drinking cup after cup at the Café de Procope.
As the French republican and historian Jules Michelet said:
Coffee, the sober drink, the mighty nourishment of the brain, which unlike other spirits, heightens purity and lucidity; coffee, which clears the clouds of the imagination and their gloomy weight; which illuminates the reality of things suddenly with the flash of truth.
quoted in Tom Standage, A History of the World in 6 Glasses, chapter VII, “The Great Soberer”
As Michael Pollan puts it, caffeine and alcohol embody a duality described by the ancient Greeks: coffee bolsters the “Apollonian” worldview—logic and reason, order and rationality—whereas alcohol fuels the “Dionysian” impulses of chaos, wildness and excess.
(That said, both have their place in the toolbox of creativity. On days when I’m wrestling especially hard with writer’s block, I’ll occasionally have a glass of beer or wine. The inhibition-reducing effect of alcohol can be useful in unjamming my creative circuits and getting the thoughts to start flowing. But I always rely on coffee to edit them later and make sure the argument coheres.)
The drug of capitalism
In traditional agricultural economies, beer was the chosen drink of farmhands. Think of a nice Belgian saison or a French bière de garde. It was a refreshing reward after a hot day in the fields. But for the emerging industrial economy, it just wouldn’t do.
Alcohol makes you a little stupid. It dulls the senses, hazes the brain, relaxes inhibition. Of course, sometimes this is the desired effect. However, when focus and precision are crucial, like on a factory assembly line or in an accountant’s spreadsheet, there’s only one thing that fits the bill.
Caffeine is a productivity drug. It helps us pay attention, working faster and longer without nodding off. Coffee made shift work possible, allowing people to defy our circadian rhythm and keep working into the night. It’s safe to say that capitalism as we know it couldn’t exist without caffeine.
Employers are well aware of this. In a famous legal case from the 1950s, the Los Wigwam Weavers tie factory gave its workers free coffee breaks to keep them energized and focused on their tasks. It worked… but the owner, Phil Greinetz, then argued that this time should be off the clock. The case went to court, which ruled that coffee breaks were for the benefit of the employer and therefore should be paid time.
Bees, the tireless workers of the animal kingdom, are caffeine fiends too. Some flowers naturally produce caffeinated nectar, not as a pest repellent, but a pollinator attractant. It turns out that bees love these flowers and return to them more frequently than decaf options. Sometimes, they’ll keep visiting even when there’s no more nectar to be collected. They, too, crave that caffeine buzz.
Everything in moderation, including moderation
Like all life’s pleasures, coffee is best in moderation. For example, I avoid those giant Starbucks sizes. They make me jittery, restless, insomniac, and then tired and irritable all the next day. I try not to drink so much that my tolerance builds up, because then you end up in the addict’s dilemma: having to consume more and more just to feel normal, while getting none of the benefits.
I don’t judge people who abstain from caffeine and other drugs (although I do pity Mormons a little). I understand the desire to keep one’s consciousness clear and unclouded. However, I think life with the occasional indulgence is better. It gives our day-to-day existence color and texture. It makes the world richer and more vivid.
Evidence suggests that moderate consumption of coffee has health benefits, which is a bonus. But let’s not delude ourselves that that’s the reason we drink it. Coffee is the rare substance that gives sensory, bodily pleasure while also elevating the mind. It’s the drug for those who both love the world and also want to understand it.