Puer Tea Read online

  TRANSFORMATION AND THE DESIRE TO BALANCE

  How has Puer tea been endowed with so many symbolic meanings? In what social context was its recent popularity generated? These symbolic meanings are strategically inherited from those applied to Chinese tea generally over a long period of time; more importantly, the construction and application of these symbolic meanings is taking place at a critical moment in China's transformation in politics, economics, and consumer culture. The Puer tea fad symbolically represents multiple desires that contrast the past with the present, as well as different places and actors.

  Anthropologists and sociologists investigate attitudes toward food from diverse perspectives. One of the most important approaches links symbolic meanings of food to issues of identity. Beginning with the work of Claude Lévi-Strauss (1970), scholars have acknowledged that food is not only good to eat but also good to think with. Lévi-Strauss developed the binary distinction between the raw and the cooked, stressing that artificial interference is the key factor that transforms food from the natural to the cultural. As we will see, the case of Puer tea sometimes departs from this general scheme.

  The symbolic meanings of food have been explored in many different contexts. Some scholars have considered the role of food in spiritual contexts, as certain food can become an obvious marker of a certain religion (Toomey 1994; Feeley-Harnik 1995). Some stress that food plays an important role in memory because it can awaken one's senses to remember home or the past (Seremetakis 1994; Sutton 2001). Some attribute different styles of food consumption to divergent tastes and class positions (Goody 1982; Bourdieu 1984). Some look at how food has been taken as one inevitable part of tourism to signify different travel “flavours” (Heldke 2005; Germann-Molz 2004). Some discuss food customs from the point of view of gender, as throughout history certain modes of food consumption have been considered masculine or feminine (Counihan and Kaplan 1998). Some have also explored how food is tied to ethnicity and used to represent distinct ethnic identities, even with spatial and temporal change (Ohnuki-Tierney 1993; Tam 2002). Chinese food is a particularly rich subject, as it allows us to explore how unique Chinese concepts are embodied in food and how certain imported foods are locally reinterpreted (Anderson 1980, 1988; Watson 1997; Wu and Cheung 2002; Su Heng-an 2004; Sterckx 2005).

  Emiko Ohnuki-Tierney (1993) writes about the Japanese use of rice as a “metaphor of [the] self,” arguing that the symbolic meanings developed for certain staple foods are the sediments of “historical process.” Over a long period of time these meanings become “natural” to the people of the nation (1993: 6). Although rice has become the dominant representation for Japan, it is not necessarily quantitatively important to all Japanese, and in fact there are large portions of the Japanese population who don't depend on rice to survive. Nor is the identification of the Japanese with rice a conscious presentation. The customs and metaphors relevant to rice are merely applied by the general population in their daily lives. This is different from the consciously symbolized and abstracted meanings developed by cultural interpreters such as anthropologists (Ohnuki-Tierney 1993: 5).

  In many respects, the case of tea in China is similar. Its symbolic meanings have developed over a long period and have become naturalized as a part of China's history. Tea has become the exclusive national drink, though it's not actually consumed by the entire population. Moreover, it is regarded as far more than a drink to quench thirst. In ordinary people's lives, tea is served to guests for hospitality and is essential in managing social relations. It is commonly given as a gift to respected people, especially during festivals. In the past, many Chinese people used tea as a betrothal gift during wedding negotiations. Tea is also used to negotiate between the mundane and the sacred—for instance, as an important offering during ancestor worship rituals. Indigenous ethnic groups in Yunnan, such as the Hani, actually worship tea trees and don't allow them to be destroyed at random (Shi Junchao 1999; Xu Jianchu 2007).

  However, whereas the symbolic meanings of rice appear to have been mainly unconsciously developed in Japanese daily lives, the Chinese literati have played a role in consciously highlighting the cultural importance of tea, like the French gentry's role in boosting the status of French cuisine (Ulin 1996; Ferguson 1998). Tea drinking is linked by the literati to other forms of art—such as poetry, calligraphy, and painting—and it represents a frugal, pure, and elegant lifestyle (Shen Dongmei 2007). Many ancient landscape paintings portray human figures in nature drinking tea, indicating escape from political disputes and enjoyment of freedom in a self-constructed utopia (fig. I.7).

  Tea has also been linked by the literati to important forms of Chinese religion. Essays and poems often associate tea with frugality, Confucian benevolence, and moderation. In the fourth century, tea banquets began to be advocated as alternatives to extravagant alcohol banquets, and tea was taken as a sobering drink in contrast to alcohol, which often led to disorder (Guan Jianping 2001). Chinese tea was also promoted for its medicinal functions: refreshing the mind, aiding digestion, reducing fever, and promoting urination. These functions were further promoted by the Daoist idea of “nourishing life” (yangsheng), or improving health through proper eating and thinking. Tea also became important in temples, where Buddhist monks drank it to refresh their mind and assist in meditation, as expressed in the saying “Tea and Ch'an Buddhism have the same flavor” (cha chan yi wei) (Benn 2005).

  It is not always easy to differentiate between the metaphoric meanings of tea used by folk audiences and those used by the cultural elites. Quite often the latter develops its further insights from the former, and then these insights flow back into popular culture and commingle. This explains why many ordinary Chinese also believe that tea drinking brings about good order and enjoyment. In other words, the symbolic meanings of tea in China are actually generated by both conscious and unconscious representations, and naturalized by the strength of contributions from both folk and elite culture.

  The uneven segments in this historical process—namely, the variation, contrast, transformation, and subversion in the process of symbolic identification and the counterforces that challenge established symbolic meanings—deserve particular attention. Chinese symbolic identification with tea has not always naturally or steadily developed throughout history; rather, it has been uneven and shaped by political and economic pressures and social demands.13 Before and after the Reform era, the profile of tea in China was quite different. During the time of Mao (1949–1976), and especially during the Cultural Revolution (1966–1976), it was suppressed by the exclusive emphasis on political struggle. In this period, living standards were low (fig. I.8) and consumption-based lifestyles were condemned as “negative capitalism” (ziben zhuyi weiba) (see also Zeng Zhixian 2001: 93). The positive meanings of tea were buried, the number of public teahouses was greatly reduced, and tea consumption was largely limited to the family and work unit. The Reform era, which formally started in the early 1980s, saw a gradual elevation of living standards. Various forms of entertainment were encouraged, especially after the mid-1990s, when China began its economic surge. Entering the twenty-first century, the so-called “consumption revolution” has become more intensely staged (Davis 2000; Latham, Thompson, and Klein 2006). Tea is once again stressed as an essential national representation. All sorts of tea events—such as tea auctions, tea-serving performances, and tea-tasting competitions—have sprung up, and these are often elevated to the status of art. These events reflect an extraordinary craze for tea culture in contemporary China (D'Abbs 2009; Tan and Ding 2010). One survey reveals that by the end of 2006, there were a total of four thousand wholesale, retail, and service tea establishments in Kunming, in contrast to the low profile of public tea services during the Mao era.14 It is amid this transformation that Yunnan's Puer tea has become popular. Remarkably, all the current teahouses in Kunming sell mainly Puer tea, a tea that was consumed by Yunnanese in the past, but only recently appreciated for its aged value.

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nbsp; The present cultural packaging of Puer tea has inherited and borrowed many elements from the packaging of Chinese tea more generally. For example, popular writers on Puer tea argue that Puer is the only kind of tea that maintains “the legacy of Tang and Song,” as it is still processed into a compressed form (Lei Pingyang 2000: 1–3; Deng Shihai 2004: 24).15 The other distinctive feature of Puer tea is its link to time. Many writers say that a piece of Puer tea won't be good until it has been aged for a long time by means of a natural process, whether along the caravan route or in storage, just as a man won't be mature and wise until he has had enough life experience (Li Yan and Yang Zejun 2004; Ruan Dianrong 2005b). Hence, some writers and drinkers declare that superior Puer tea is naturally aged, which echoes the Daoist appreciation of spontaneity and “flavorless flavor” (wu wei zhi wei) (Deng Shihai 2004: 49).16

  Whether related to individual identity or Yunnanese group identity, these symbolic meanings of Puer tea are consciously constructed. On the one hand, many Yunnanese are confused by them, especially by the sudden appreciation for the flavor of aged Puer tea, which ironically was “artificially” created by a group of advocates in only about five years, in contrast to the slow aging process. Other studies have also documented the rapid invention of foodways in China (Kyllo 2007) and elsewhere (Haverluk 2002; Hsü Ching-wen 2005), while the uniqueness of Puer tea's case lies in the depth of its packaged values and the widespread counterforces that unpack and deconstruct the newly established values. Moreover, examining the unprecedented packaging of Puer tea would contribute to the study of how values and meanings are created through transnational or transregional commodity networks (see Friedberg 2004; Wilk 2006; Belasco and Horowitz 2009), an underexplored topic in relation to Chinese food and globalization (though see Tagliacozzo and Chang 2011).

  On the other hand, these consciously constructed meanings for Puer tea reveal a certain kind of “historical process.” When put on a historical timeline, the contrast between these newly constructed meanings and past meanings indicates that meanings attached to Puer tea have developed at specific points in China's historical development. Just as the Japanese use of rice as a metaphor for self is, in Ohnuki-Tierney's words, “born through discourse with the other” (1993: 8), the packaging of Puer tea's symbolic value happened in the context of Reform China's transformation. New meanings are constructed through discourse and contrast with the historical past.

  In relation to this temporal discourse, consumers, situated in a context of transformation and adaptation, desire to consume something both new and old in order to counterbalance the unforgettable past. First, they want to become wealthy, to overcome the poverty of the past. Those who have become rich are eager to find channels for investment, and Puer tea, the “drinkable antique” valued for its aged taste, is a good candidate. As one slogan says, “You will regret tomorrow what you don't store today.”

  Second, consumers want to live healthy lives, to achieve physical balance for their bodies, which had been neglected during years of poverty. This echoes the consumption trend globally (Hollander 2003) and reflects distinctive Chinese beliefs that food is also medicine and that eating is essential to balance yin and yang, or cold and hot, in the body (Anderson 1980; Belasco and Scranton 2002; Ismail 2002; Su Heng-an 2004). The advertising claim that Puer tea is more effective than any other tea for helping with digestion is widely accepted, and some consumers seek out Puer tea gathered from forest trees due to its superior ecological, taste, and health value. In both urban teahouses and rural production areas, people drink Puer tea before meals to stimulate the appetite or after meals to counteract greasiness. It is hard to say whether they drink Puer tea in order to eat more or eat more in order to drink Puer tea. In other words, the Puer tea boom is part of the ongoing embrace of fine Chinese cuisine and the pursuit of good health.

  Third, consumers want to revive the past (fugu) to compensate for the suppression of interest in collecting antiques during the Maoist era. Spurred by economic growth, the expanding upper and middle classes have more income and leisure time to seek out and appreciate traditional Chinese aesthetic values, such as antique paintings, calligraphy, and other artistic objects. They also seek to balance the ongoing modernity and globalization that make many old things disappear. Although an antique, Puer tea is said to be “still alive,” and it can be consumed even after a long period (Deng Shihai 2004: 34). This caters to the need of the present generation to obtain something both old and new, in a “commoditization of nostalgia” (Sutton 2001: 163)—a nostalgia that has been created as a result of twentieth-century tourism (Lowenthal 1985). Moreover, it also reflects the so-called “culture fever” (wenhua re) phenomenon that has swept China since the mid-1980s (Wang Jing 1996; Schein 2000).

  Fourth, consumers desire authenticity: authentic Puer tea, authentic identity, and authentic lifestyle. They wish to achieve distinct identification to balance the Maoist era's emphasis on unification. In a sense this quest for authenticity reflects the trend for a new kind of individualism. It is also a response to the uncertainty brought about by modernity. Consumers believe that, in order to find authentic Puer tea, they must go to the rural tea mountains, which are unpolluted, quiet, and slow paced, in contrast to the polluted, noisy, and fast-paced urban life. Taking a cue from the “slow food movement” in Europe (Leitch 2003), aged Puer tea is seen as a “slow beverage,” used to counterbalance the rapid pace of modernity (Ruan Dianrong 2005b; Zhu Xiaohua 2007). In this regard, authentic Puer tea is identified with an authentic lifestyle, and discovering authentic Puer tea represents one's ability to achieve the lifestyle that one really wants; authenticity is endowed with meanings of self-determination and freedom, and it represents the desire to find certainty in the midst of uncertainty. In turn, the changeable and debatable authenticity of Puer tea reflects the ambiguity about the sort of lifestyle that is most desirable. As anthropologists have argued, the ways people construct biographies of things reflects the way that they construct their own identities; in other words, they construct their own identities with the constructed biographies of things, and the complex and conflicting biographies of things reflects the uncertainty of people's identities (Kopytoff 1986).

  In a period of transformation, the symbolic meanings of Puer tea are thus being packaged in order to counterbalance the impoverished past. Symbols associated with Puer tea represent new national, regional, and individual identities to counterbalance prior identities and ongoing globalization. Countervoices also emerge to further counterbalance these newly constructed “authentic” meanings. The packaging and unpackaging has happened quickly, and the contrast between these alternative voices raises questions as to how long some symbolic meanings of Puer tea can last, leading to a series of paradoxical feelings about the production and consumption of Puer tea.

  THE JIANGHU OF PUER TEA AND HANDCRAFTED AUTHENTICITY

  Despite people's desire for authenticity, fake Puer tea flourishes. A popular saying tells consumers that 90 percent of Puer tea in the market can't be authentic. Although the provincial government has established a series of regulations, the existence of so-called fake Puer tea, like other fake products in China, continues. While some people complain that there is no clear and strong standard for authenticity, others are unconcerned because they can survive without such a standard. Many tea experts compare the world of Puer tea to that of a jianghu, referring to the chaotic situation of Puer tea. This kind of casual comment was formally taken up by the magazine Puer Jianghu, which was established in April 2007. The editor-in-chief told me that since there had been so many disputes concerning Puer tea, he would like to see the magazine focus more on fun for a change (fig. I.9). The meanings of jianghu, historically and contextually, can explain how the tapestry of Puer tea is woven by multiple actors and the authenticity of Puer tea is contextually packaged and counterpackaged.

  Jianghu literally means “rivers and lakes.” Its deeper meaning encompasses nongovernmental space, in a sense echoing James
Scott's (2009) description of Yunnan as part of “Zomia,” a mountainous region where people have sought refuge from the power of the state. The early use of jianghu contained meanings about reclusion, as in the remark by Han historian Sima Qian (145 B.C.E.–87 B.C.E.), who said, “[After fulfilling his task, Fan Li resigned and] took a small boat, floating in the jianghu” (Sima Qian 2011: 2459). In this regard, jianghu is inhabited by hermits who share the same interests as those characters portrayed in landscape paintings drinking tea, both going beyond the political arena and enjoying what John Christopher Hamm describes as “individual liberty given solace and substance by romantic fulfilment on the one hand and transmitted cultural practices on the other” (2005: 137).

  More popularly, the world of jianghu appears in Chinese martial arts fiction. Since the Tang dynasty (seventh to ninth century), when martial arts fiction flourished, 17 jianghu has been depicted as a utopia that partially reflects reality, in which Chinese knights-errant or wandering swordsmen (xiake) travel around, compete in martial arts (kungfu), and go beyond the political control of the court to help the poor and the oppressed, though not declaring their direct defiance of the court (Liu 1967; Chen Pingyuan 1997; Jing Wendong 2003). While evading the court's complexity, this jianghu of knights-errant has its own chaos, full of dangers and contests, with battles occurring at inns, waterways, mountains, temples, and deserts. This theme is what most contemporary people refer to when they mention “the jianghu of Puer tea.”

  In some cases, jianghu becomes a space for bandits and other actors to declare their tough resistance to authority,18 as exemplified in the famous novel The Water Margin (Shuihu zhuan) in the fourteenth century.19 In that novel, 108 heroes combat evil, help the poor, and establish their own court to declare noncooperation with the imperial court, although their leader hadn't completely given up the wish to serve the emperor. More broadly, jianghu is used to represent “every ‘marginal’ and dispossessed element in society” (Minford 1997: xxix), such as hermits, performers, knights-errant, beggars, bandits, fortune-tellers, secret-society members, and swindlers (Minford 1997; Liu Yanwu 2003). The nonmainstream space of jianghu contrasts with the mainstream space of the court.