Salt. A World History by Mark Kurlansky
A Microhistory of a Resource That Changed the World
Between the two volumes by Yuval Noah Harari, Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind and Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow, which I read a few years ago, I also came across one of the most fascinating history books I have encountered so far — Salt: A World History by Mark Kurlansky.
If Harari takes a macro look at history, Kurlansky’s microhistory offers us a far more intimate perspective. Over the past few decades, British and American historians and journalists have shown a keen inclination for this microhistorical approach, where a resource, a discovery, an idea, or even an object becomes the starting point for reconstructing the history of the world. After Dava Sobel’s Longitude and its exploration of the global impact of a single scientific solution, Kurlansky’s volume was the second microhistory I’ve read—and it certainly whetted my appetite for the genre. Waiting on my nightstand is a volume on the history of coal and its social implications—a read that carries personal significance as my great-grandfather was one of the many Transylvanians who emigrated to work in the coal mines of the U.S. in the early 20th century. After that, I’m eager to explore the history of cotton, tea, sugar, or potatoes.
Longitude by Dava Sobel is available in Romanian thanks to Nemira Publishing, but the others are, for now, only accessible in English. Hopefully, this niche will gain traction in our local book market soon—and why not, perhaps we’ll even have Romanian authors diving into such stories one day.
"A country is never as poor as when it seems filled with riches."
Returning to the history of salt, one of my favorite childhood fairy tales was “Sarea în bucate”( Salt in Dishes). Its origins are still debated—we claim it as a Romanian folktale, the English have their own version, and in this book, the author references a French source. Personally, I lean toward the idea of a Celtic origin, as the Celts were renowned for their salt mining and trade, having once spread across vast swathes of Europe, including parts of modern-day Romania.
"I love you like salt."
What makes this volume even more compelling is how difficult it is for us today to imagine a world without access to salt. We all have it at home—fine, coarse, iodized, non-iodized, sea salt—you name it, and it comes cheap! But it wasn’t always this way. Consider that the word salary comes from the Roman practice of paying soldiers in salt—now that’s value! Incidentally, salad also comes from Latin, describing lightly salted greens like lettuce or cabbage, meant to enhance flavor and counteract bitterness.
"The romans salted their greens, believing this to counteract the bitterness, which is the origin of the word salad, salted. The oldest surviving complete book of Latin prose, Cato's second-century-B.C. practical guide to rural life, De agricultura, suggests eating cabbage this way: If you want your cabbage chopped, washed, dried, sprinkled with salt or vinegar, there is nothing healthier."
In essence, salt wrote a major chapter in human history, starting when we transitioned from hunter-gatherers to domesticating animals and embracing agrarian societies. Until then, like carnivorous animals, we got our salt from the blood of the animals we hunted. But as we began to tame animals and tie ourselves to plots of land, we realized both we and our livestock needed salt to survive. It was animals, especially herbivores, that led us to natural salt springs.
As our herds grew, so did our need for salt. It’s no wonder the first major ancient cities developed near salt sources—whether underground or in seawater.
Chinese society and the Chinese Empire were shaped by this resource, particularly due to the state-imposed monopoly on salt. Philosophical movements such as Confucianism and Daoism even found roots in the politics of salt (Discourses on Salt and Iron, for example). In a way, we can even blame salt for the invention of taxes!
"Once superiors and inferiors are competing for profit, the state will be in danger."
Without salt, there would have been no wars—or at least no provisions for them. Salt allowed us to preserve meat and vegetables. Without sauerkraut in brine, the Age of Discovery may have been delayed significantly, as entire crews perished from scurvy. No salt, no ham, no cheese, no olives. Control over Mediterranean islands often meant control over salt. The Confederacy lost the American Civil War in part due to lack of salt—it was essential for feeding troops and keeping horses alive. Salt was vital for wound care but also for dyeing textiles. Even the French Revolution was partly fueled by resentment toward the gabelle, the salt tax. Roads, empires, trade routes, totalitarian regimes—so many would not have existed without this one mineral. Without salt, we might still be hunter-gatherers!
Speaking of hunter-gatherers, Harari argues in Sapiens that the agricultural revolution was humanity’s first major con. And yet, salt granted some people immortality:
"The parallels between preserving food and preserving mummies were apparently not lost on posterity. In the nineteenth century, when mummies from Saqqara and Thebes were taken from tombs and brought to Cairo, they were taxed as salted fish before being permitted entry to the city."
From the cradles of civilization to the Mediterranean basin and beyond, Kurlansky traces a human history that couldn’t have been written without salt. Those who controlled it wielded both economic and military power. Infrastructure rose—and eventually crumbled—because of salt. Just think of Gandhi’s Salt March, which sparked a revolution and brought independence to India from the British Empire! Before becoming a symbol of liberation, salt was a tool of oppression. Britain fed its Caribbean slaves with cheap salted cod from England, France, or Scandinavia. Salt cod was the cheapest and most caloric meal of the time.
"For the British, salt was regarded as of strategic importance because salt cod and corned beef became the rations of the British navy. It was the same with the French. In fact, by the fourteenth century, for most of northern Europe the standard procedure to prepare for war was to obtain a large quantity of salt and start salting fish and meat. In 1345, the count of Holland prepared for his campaign against the Frisians by ordering the salting of 7 342 cod caught off the coast. Olaus Magnus, a Swedish bishop, in his 1555 A Description of the Northern Peoples, wrote that the provisions necessary to withstanding a long siege were herrings, eels, bream, and cod - all salted"
Church history might have taken a different turn without this revolution in food preservation. During fasting days when meat was forbidden, salted fish and butter helped people get by. And don't think it was easy to outsmart the Church—eating pork on a fast day in England could get you hanged. Ironically, salted butter, once the food of the poor, is now a delicacy. Salt, as a flavor enhancer, has brought great delight—though often at a salty price.
Salt also brought us something else: quality control. Thanks to the Hanseatic League, established around the salt trade, we got the first widely recognized quality assurance systems. Before that, no authority certified the quality of fish salted in the North Sea or the Baltic. The League’s influence grew along with the trust in the goods it guaranteed. However, so did the frustration of Scandinavian states that felt economically bound to it. Proof that even good things turn sour without balance. Needless to say, herring populations in the north paid a heavy price.
And yes—both the Chinese and Romans were aware of salt’s health dangers in excess.
You can also read the book from a culinary perspective—it’s peppered with recipes and kitchen insights. From Cato we learn how to test brine salinity with an egg. And if you’re a travel buff, the book serves as a guide too. I know I’ll see Hallstatt, Salzburg, Rome, Ostia, and many Mediterranean islands with new eyes!
"Cato suggested testing brine for sufficient salinity to use in pickling by seeing if an anchovy or an egg would float in it. The anchovy test has not endured, but the egg test remains the standard household technique throughout the Mediterranean. In northern Europe a floating potato is sometimes used."
Many old salt mines are now spas or tourist attractions. Once reserved for aristocracy, they’re open to everyone today—and thankfully, we can leave them alive. Most of the horses once used in mining never saw daylight again. The same went for many of the people.
Of course, the book also details various salt extraction technologies through the ages. Today, a few global corporations dominate salt production, and profit comes from volume. But in regions like Brittany, young people are reviving ancient salt ponds, producing sea salt the traditional way—less perfect, but more valuable. A matter of taste and fashion.
This book touches on a wide range of interests and is written with clear passion—you can feel it. It’s also accessible even for those with a medium grasp of English.
One final note: next time you look at the salt shaker on your table, remember that in the past, only kings had such luxuries. Salt cellars were works of art, often shaped like ships with secret, locked compartments. Touching salt with your fingers was forbidden—you used the tip of your knife. Distinguished guests had their own miniature cellars at the table. Common folks used garum (in Roman times) or ate salty foods alongside unsalted ones. Personally, I kept a salt shaker beside me while reading this book—dipping my finger into it rebelliously! But then again, I’m the kind who prefers a good pickle over a fancy dessert!
So let us enjoy these tiny luxuries that now seem trivial but once divided the world!
Salt: A World History, by Mark Kurlansky, Penguin Books, 2003, 484 pages
This is the English adapted-version of an article initially published in my native Romanian language on my blog on Aug. 19, 2018 - Sarea. O istorie a lumii de Mark Kurlansky - Microistoria unei resurse care a schimbat lumea - Din mansardă
P.S.: Ivona’s Loft is free today. But if you enjoyed this post, you can support Ivona’s Loft by visiting some of her online shops where you can find all sorts of prints after her illustrations. Juniqe, Printoteca, and Redbubble. Your support will be much appreciated. Thank you!