Short History Of... - Boston Tea Party

Episode Date: October 1, 2023

In December, 1773, hundreds of angry Bostonians charged into the harbor at Griffin’s Wharf, and tossed over 300 chests of tea into the icy waters below. This lawlessness marked the culmination of what many Americans viewed as decades worth of oppression and exploitation by the British. Ultimately leading to the American War of Independence, this nonviolent protest has become one of the most pivotal moments in American history. But what circumstances led to the Boston Tea Party? Why was tea such a significant symbol of oppression? And why is the Boston Tea Party considered to be the single most important catalyst for the American Revolution? This is a Short History Of The Boston Tea Party. Written by Lindsay Galvin. With thanks to Benjamin Carp, Professor of History at Brooklyn College, and author of ‘Defiance Of The Patriots: The Boston Tea Party and the Making of America’.  For ad-free listening, bonus content and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Now available for Apple and Android users. Click the Noiser+ banner on Apple or go to noiser.com/subscriptions to get started with a 7-day free trial. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Get groceries delivered across the GTA from Real Canadian Superstore with PC Express. Shop online for super prices and super savings. Try it today and get up to $75 in PC Optimum Points. Visit Superstore.ca to get started. It is the evening of March the 5th, 1770, in Boston, Massachusetts. The streets of the 140-year-old colonial town are piled with filthy snow and ice. Private Hugh White, a British soldier of His Majesty's 29th Regiment of Foot, stamps his frozen boots, huffs out a clouded breath, and checks his loaded musket.

He dusts a speck of snow off his red felt coat and tugs the front of his black tricorn hat lower over his eyes. Private White is 30 years old and has served in the British Army for 11 years. Tonight he is the only sentry posted outside the Customs House, where British officials collect duties, and he's not happy about it. customs house, where British officials collect duties, and he's not happy about it. The noise from the taverns lining the street is merry, but he knows only too well just how quickly the mood can change. Relations between the Bostonians, who the soldiers call Yankees, and the army are at their lowest ebb. White has become used to insults and colonists spitting at him in the street.

Alongside brutal treatment by his superiors and terrible pay, his patience is wearing thin. So tonight, when six youths emerge laughing from a tavern, every muscle tenses. They've spotted him. White's knuckles tighten on his rifle as the young men squat to scoop the filthy snow, sniggering and nudging each other. He steals himself, determined not to be humiliated by dodging. The first snowball flies but misses, instead bursting against the wooden door behind him. More missiles follow and White grits his teeth, bearing the demeaning thumps of snow across the

red wool of his jacket in growing fury. The youths yell insults between each throw. So, they want a rise out of him? He'll give them one. White steps back and thuds the butt of his rifle on the steps, as if forcing down the lead shot. It's a warning they instantly recognize. But now the tavern doors swing open. Suddenly there are more of them, men and women, joining the fray, throwing snow and oyster shells from a midden heap. One of the boys advances, goaded by the growing mob, and flings a wooden club. It glances off White's shoulder, and he lashes out in retaliation with the butt of his gun,

catching the side of the boy's head and sending him sprawling. Horror struck, the throng bellows and someone runs off to ring the bells of the local church, as if alerting the community to a fire. With his back against the wooden door at the top of the steps, White barks at the crowd to get back. But after his assault of the boy, it is clear they're after blood. In the nick of time, seven more redcoats arrive. Bayonets raised, they cut through the chanting crowd, but are pelted as they surround White. They jab at the advancing men with their muskets, and then one of them pulls the trigger. There is a second of shocked silence.

Moments later, the other soldiers raise their muskets and fire repeatedly into the mob. Eleven Bostonian civilians are shot that night. Three perish at the scene and two die later of the wounds sustained at what becomes known as the Boston Massacre. Private Hugh White and his compatriots are indicted for murder. Though they escape death sentences, their punishments are brutal. Each one receives a brand of the letter M for murderer on their left thumbs. The impact of the massacre doesn't end there. Over the next two years, the colonists rage against Britain builds until an iconic demonstration of resistance sees 46 tons of tea thrown into the sea at Griffin's Wharf.

But what triggered the events which became known as the Boston Tea Party? Why was tea so important to a nation now known for their coffee consumption? And why is the Boston Tea Party, considered by many, to be the single most important incident leading up to the American Revolution? I'm John Hopkins from Noisa. This is a short history of the Boston Tea Party.

By the 1760s, 13 colonies of the British Empire occupy the east coast of North America, bordered by Nova Scotia in the north and Florida in the south. Many indigenous peoples have been pushed from their ancestral lands into the central territories after a century and a half of bloodshed. These colonies, not yet a cohesive united group, are a rich source of revenue for the British. Under King George III and Parliament, money is made through trade and taxation. It's intended to be a reciprocal arrangement, as Britain protects

the colonies, providing military troops and officials. Benjamin Carp is a professor of history at Brooklyn College and author of Defiance of the Patriots, the Boston Tea Party, and the Making of America. The idea that Parliament ought to legislate for the entire empire was relatively uncontroversial for most people in Britain. And the Americans got a lot out of their arrangement with the British Empire as well. And so if you'd asked a lot of colonial Americans in 1763 whether they liked being part of the British Empire, they certainly had some resentments, but many of them would have thought of themselves as patriotic and loyal subjects of the king. But by the mid-1700s, Britain finds itself short of money.

Global powers have been battling for territory in what becomes known as the Seven Years' War. Global powers have been battling for territory in what becomes known as the Seven Years' War. Although the war rewards Britain with lucrative lands previously held by the French and cements its place as the most powerful empire in the world, it comes at great financial cost. Now, deeply in debt, Britain looks to the American colonies they've fought for to recoup their losses. The colonists, however, have a different perspective. They resent the taxes they're forced to send back across the Atlantic and believe that if Britain continues to charge them, they should have a say in Parliament.

These grievances become known by the principle, no taxation without representation. Bottom line, nobody taxation without representation. Bottom line, nobody likes paying taxes. Most American colonists were actually taxed a lot less on average than British subjects back home. And from the British perspective, right, the British had just fought the Seven Years War on the Americans behalf, had gone into debt, had expended a great amount from the royal treasury and were maintaining continued troop commitments on the North American continent.

So from Parliament's perspective, for the American colonists to kick a little back in the form of duties and taxes of various kinds didn't seem that controversial to them. They thought the Americans ought to be a little bit grateful and show that gratitude by paying taxes. But a lot of American colonists begin to see this very differently.

They worry about the future. What's to stop parliament from just raising taxes, raising taxes, raising taxes? And there's no accountability, right? Because the Americans don't have a say in what parliament is doing. And the colonists are also unhappy about trade. The British-owned East India Company accounts for half the world's trade in cotton, silk, dye, sugar, salt, spices, opium, and tea. The company's size means it's able to undercut smaller ventures and grow its monopoly. Though its dominance affects all shipping commerce in the Americas, it's particularly notable in Boston, Massachusetts, the most northerly of the colonies.

Boston does not rely on trading in agricultural produce the way that New York and Philadelphia do. Boston was really more about fishing, shipbuilding, and carrying trade, particularly in things like rum and molasses. The shipping industry is bread and butter for rich and poor Bostonians alike. But in the 1760s, it's starting to decline. Competition from other ports is weakening Boston's import and export business. Recent wars have affected vital trade routes, unemployment is creeping up and to make matters worse there's been an outbreak of smallpox in the city. The stage is set for the beleaguered town to be hit hardest by Parliament's latest financial measures.

The Stamp Act of 1765 comes at just the wrong moment for Boston. It imposes a direct tax requiring printed materials in the colonies to be produced on official stamped paper from London, for which they are forced to pay extortionate prices. Discontent swells, and people start organ organizing themselves against what they see as British oppression. A group called the Sons of Liberty is founded by nine prominent artisans and shopkeepers affected by the Stamp Act. Soon, it grows to include leading businessmen. This was a way for some Americans to organize themselves and say, let's try something different. Let's either petition Parliament.

If that doesn't work, let's lean on our friends who are British merchants. If that doesn't work, let's put pressure on local customs officers. If that doesn't work, maybe we'll get a little bit violent. But instead of gauging the growing unrest and support for the Sons of Liberty, British Parliament simply brings in stricter measures. More commodities are taxed, and duties imposed on goods that are difficult for colonies to produce on their own. China, glass, lead, paint and paper.

And tea. The bulk of the revenue flowing back to Britain will come from the new tax on tea. At this, the colonists hit back hard. They cut off British revenue at its root with a boycott of certain taxed goods. Angry Bostonians gather in taverns and on street corners where they discuss their mutual discontent openly. Tempers rise and street brawls become more bloody and frequent as residents are torn between making a stand against the British and maintaining their livelihoods in the short term. From the director of The Greatest Showman comes the most original musical ever. I want to prove I can make it.

Prove to who? Everyone. So, the story starts. Better Man, now playing in select theaters. Thanks to pressure from the Sons of Liberty, merchants in Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island boycott British goods in January 1768. New York follows suit in April. In order for those boycotts to work, of course, you needed support from multiple American seaports. No one town like Boston was going to be able to be politically successful on its own. And these

are the beginnings of Americans working together. Customs officials are now being derided and threatened and find it impossible to collect the taxes. This leads the British to send troops to Boston in an attempt to subdue the unrest. The town of 16,000 receives an influx of 2,000 troops, and their arrival is less than welcome. They resented this troop presence of people who were not born in Boston, who had come from overseas. It strikes them as being sort of like an occupying army. For the locals, the troops are viewed as a demonstration of British oppression, upholding policies which scupper their livelihoods and insult their independence.

They start to openly mock the soldiers in the streets. The Sons of Liberty gain more and more followers, but they aren't entirely motivated by patriotism. Prominent businessman and later founding father, John Hancock, finds his business interests severely affected by the taxes and embargoes. He is rumored to run a huge tea smuggling operation and is a close associate of dissident writer Samuel Adams, one of the group's core members.

As the Sons of Liberty gain followers, the Bostonians' grievances become focused on the tea trade in particular, because those unassuming leaves and the mild brew they make have a huge cultural significance at this time. The 18th century is really when the price of tea begins to come down enough that it can be an ordinary drink for ordinary people. It was this little bit of luxury that even a poor working family might be able to afford. And so there's excitement surrounding tea, both in Britain and its American colonies.

And if you think about the American colonies, which are 3,000 miles away from the metropolis in London, and they were already feeling insecure about being a little bit of a provincial backwater, the idea that they could have access to tea as well is really exciting for a lot of colonial Americans. And there's evidence that Native Americans, African Americans were drinking it as well.

It's maybe not universal. It's still a luxury good, but it's an accessible luxury. Despite their love for tea, colonists agree to a boycott, which is intended to cut off revenue to the British. But it also denies the colonists a commodity to which they've grown attached. It's estimated that they get through around 1.2 million pounds of tea per year. And so, while many support the boycott in principle, some continue to drink tea via smugglers. As long as they aren't buying British East

India Company tea, many see this as an acceptable workaround. As the 1760s come to a close, tension is rife on Boston's dock sides and streets. Aggression grows between colonists and British troops. Most hated are people known as informants, those who cooperate with the official customs board by notifying them of ships avoiding duties. The Sons of Liberty adopt a new technique to punish spies. It is late evening on October the 28th, 1769, in Boston. A horse-drawn cart bounces along the rutted streets, but it's carrying no ordinary cargo.

A man called George Gaylor lolls dazed on the cart's filthy wooden slats. He is a sailor whose merchant vessel has recently been raided by officials who suspect smuggling. But the Sons of Liberty believe he's guilty of a different crime, informing on his own ship. Gaelir's head throbs from a heavy blow. He was snatched off the street a few minutes ago and beaten by a gang of angry men. Every second, the mob alongside the cart grows. As Gaelas' head clears, he scans for an escape route, and he realizes where he is. The cart is heading towards the Liberty Tree in the center of town, where effigies of custom officers are frequently hung and burned.

He scrambles up into a squat, but someone throws a stone, and he's knocked back to his haunches. Suddenly, the cart jolts to a halt. Remaining seated, Gael appears at the crowd, trying to identify anyone who might show him some mercy. The mob is now fifty strong, at least, and made up of ordinary townspeople and the wealthy, too. None of them look friendly. Whatever they have in store for him, he'll have to ride it out and pray the redcoats will intervene. The crowd parts as a barrel is rolled across the ground. Gala swallows.

It's not big enough to put him in, but he can't think what else they intend to do with it. The barrel is thrown into the cart and three men leap up behind it. Gaelar cowers back, but someone grabs him by the lapels and holds him down. Another hauls off one of his boots and throws it into the roaring crowd. After that, his sailor's coat is stripped off and his shirt torn from his back. As he tries desperately to hold onto his breeches, one of his assailants slices through the leather of his belt with a knife and rips the fabric from his legs.

Naked, humiliated, and terrified, Gaelar attempts to scoot into the corner of the cart, but is dragged back. The barrel is rolled towards him now, prized open. And when Gaelar smells what's inside, he whimpers. It's the unmistakable scent of pine tar, a thick, brown, sticky substance which Gael has used himself in the shipyard to repair boats. As two men hold him down, one at his feet, one at his shoulders, the contents of the barrel are tipped over his torso. Gael screams.

The pine tar has been heated to become a burning hot liquid. The pain is incredible as the tar slicks across his bare skin and soon he is covered from neck to toe. His tormentors make use of every last drop, tipping it over his face and hair. When they finally release him, he slides back into the slippery tar, unable to stand. But his ordeal isn't yet over. As he tries to wipe his eyes with gluey fingers, gasping at the burning heat, everything becomes muffled, as though he's caught in a blizzard. Whiteness tumbles over him, but it's not snow.

Amid hoots of vicious laughter, the men are slitting pillows and casting the contents over his sticky skin. He coughs as the feathers catch in his throat, and each time he miserably tries to flee, the crowd cackles, mimicking the clucking of a chicken. George Gaylor is the first man in Boston to be tarred and feathered. While the pouring of tar on skin is extremely painful, no one is known to have been killed as a result. The point of this punishment is utter humiliation. That evening, Gaylor is paraded around Boston in the cart for three hours, accompanied by a mob that swells to hundreds. Eventually, once he is sworn never to inform again, and has thanked the mob for sparing

his life, Gayler is deposited underneath the Liberty Tree. Though he later tries to bring charges against his assailants, he fails to get anyone convicted. There was real violence. And the truth is, there only need to be some isolated acts of violence in order to intimidate everyone else into compliance. The Sons of Liberty would often use violence as a deterrent, generally not against upper-class customs officers themselves, but let's say they caught somebody who was an informer. One thing that you could do in order to discourage strict enforcement of enforcement laws was capture somebody like that and beat them up, you know, threaten them until they resigned, you know, or actually tar and feather them, was meant to be a kind of ostracizing thing as well. And in these small communities, right, ostracization meant quite a bit. So it was painful. It was shameful. Following the attack on George Gaylor, the violence builds.

In February 1770, a group of the youth contingent of the Sons of Liberty, known as the Liberty Boys, gather outside the house of a customs officer. The boys smash his windows with stones, but when a rock strikes the officer's wife, he fires his musket into the crowd. The musket ball hits 11 year old Christopher Cedar in the arm and chest. Later that evening the young boy dies from his injuries. 2,000 mourners attend the boys funeral, which many believe is organized and paid for by Samuel Adams, one of the leading sons of liberty. Public outrage reaches fever pitch and the Boston massacre takes place just 11 days later.

The tensions eventually come to a head one night on March 5th, 1770. Historians dispute what was happening. It was clear that there was a crowd of men and boys who were throwing things at the soldiers. You know, it's not clear whether the order to fire was given, but it was certainly legitimate if the soldiers felt that their lives were under threat, that they could fire into the crowd. They do so and a number of people are injured and five men are dead. In response to the massacre, Britain posts more troops to Boston. Although this seems to instill order and three years of relative calm follow, resentment continues to bubble beneath the surface. The boycott and the smuggling continue,

and by 1770, most of America's tea is illegally imported from the Netherlands. Skirmishes between smugglers and troops trying to control the illegal activity become increasingly common. On November 23, 1771, a customs schooner stops a pilot boat on the Delaware River. It looks as though there are only two men aboard, but as it contains over 30 chests of smuggled Dutch tea, soldiers escort the ship upriver and force it to drop anchor. Seconds after the vessel has moored, 30 men burst from the boat's cabin, armed with clubs, cutlasses and guns. They force the British officers below deck and lock the hatches so they can unload their illegal cargo, which is spirited away on shore. The widespread smuggling leaves the East India Company with an enormous surplus of tea.

As a result, Parliament devises a plan aimed to kill two birds with one stone. The Tea Act of 1773 bails out the East India Company by giving them a huge tax break, which should reduce the cost of the commodity. The Americans should like this because it will bring down the price of tea and everybody wins. Parliament will get more revenue. East India Company will get more revenue. Colonists will be paying less for tea. This should be win-win for everybody.

But the Americans see this and say, wait a minute, we smell a rat. The tax is still in place. So you are going to make tea cheaper for us as a way of seducing us into paying this tax for which we have not given our consent. Not only that, but it's propping up a monopoly company that's going to crowd some American merchants out of the lucrative tea market. Despite their qualms, the tea is on its way to Boston. 46 tons of it on three ships, the Eleanor, the Dartmouth, and the Beaver. If the colonists allow the cargo to land,

it will be sold, the duty paid, and the policy of no taxation without representation will be lost. And there's a peer pressure element too, because the Sons of Liberty in New York and Philadelphia are going to be extremely angry with the Sons of Liberty of Boston if they allow the tea to land. So the Bostonians are really feeling pressure that they should send the tea back if possible. The first two merchant tea ships arrive on the 28th of November and the 2nd of December. They sit in the harbor, but they are not unloaded. East India Company tea shipments also arrive at other American ports.

The Sons of Liberty in New York and Philadelphia are able to turn these ships around, but in Boston, the governor refuses. By now, tea drinking has become a political act. In support of Boston, neighboring Lexington stages a huge bonfire, fueled by every ounce of the town's tea. And in Boston itself, all anyone can talk about is the tea stalemate in the harbor. The third tea ship arrives on December the 15th. So the Bostonians, by December 16th, are running out of time.

They say, OK, right, we'll ask the governor one more time, you know, to see if he'll allow the tea ships to turn around. He's asked. The governor says no. And then at that point, Samuel Adams supposedly says, all right, there's nothing more that we can do to save this country. It is December the 16th, 1773 at the Old South Meeting House. Despite the wintry weather, the heat generated by so many men and the damp wool of their coats means it's almost muggy inside. This is an unofficial gathering of nearly every able man in Boston. Around 5,000 of them pack the meeting house, filling the three galleries up to the rafters as they listen

to successive speakers on the parapet. The moderator struggles to keep order. One man, a young shopkeeper whose wife has a baby on the way, has been here for hours. a young shopkeeper whose wife has a baby on the way, has been here for hours. The fate of his business hangs in the balance. If that tea is unloaded, who knows what the British will impose next. The governor stands at the parapet, red in the face, his wig jiggling, as he insists over and over again that the ships will not be turned around. Then suddenly, a sound cuts through his speech, a distinctive war cry. Heart thumping, the young shopkeeper turns to see twenty or so individuals burst into

the meeting house. Their faces are painted copper red, capes trail behind them, and copies of the feathered headdresses worn by the Mohawk tribe hang down their backs. Yelling in a mockery of indigenous language, they only stay long enough for everyone to catch a glimpse before sweeping out again. As they leave, a voice cries, Boston Harbor a teapot this night.

At once the place comes alive with excitement. The meeting hall empties onto the street, and many of the men follow the bobbing feathers of their headdresses as they swarm towards Griffin Wharf. The shopkeeper is handed a hammer by another local man as they reach their destination. Navy ships stand sentinel in the harbor, but the protesters are undeterred. A hundred or so men in various levels of disguise rush on board the three tea ships. The sulfurous stench of seaweed and damp wood fill the air, and the shopkeeper grips his hammer

tight, following men down the gangplank. Seconds later, he finds himself on board a tea ship. The initial 20 men, in their mohawk disguise, clearly have a plan. Without hesitation, they smash the padlocks which secure the hold, releasing the warm, spicy scent of tea. Then the men leap down into the hold themselves, encouraging others to follow suit. Soon, hundreds of men are breaking into wooden tea chests, heaving them onto the ship's rail, and pouring the precious contents into the harbour. In the water, the shattered wood floats in pieces amid the brown tea leaves. Thrilling at the audacity of it, the young shopkeeper scans the harbour for officials. But there are no redcoats, no gunshots.

Behind him, the men on the deck continue to destroy crate after crate, tossing them to the side and discarding their precious contents overboard. In total, 342 chests of tea, containing 46 tons of the valuable commodity, are obliterated. These tea leaves could have made upwards of 18 million cups of tea, and in today's money, it's worth well over a million dollars. No one is hurt, and aside from the destruction of the tea and a padlock, no property is damaged during the night's activities. This is essential to the operation. They're very careful not to damage anything on board the ship or destroy anything else. They don't allow any of the participants in this to pocket any tea for themselves.

It's not meant to be an act of vandalism or theft. It is meant to be an act of property destruction with a very specific political goal in mind, which is we refuse to allow this duty to commodity, this monopoly company's product to land on our shores. Around two hours after they board the ships, the protesters sweep the decks clean. They've made their statement. The tea party has served its cause. But what does this volume of tea do to the harbor at Griffin Wharf? There's some evidence of tea washing on shore in the days to come. It obviously did make something of a mess, but the ocean is big. And eventually, you know, people joked at the time that this was

a big cup of tea for the fish to drink, you know, etc., etc. So I guess you had a bunch of caffeinated fish out there in the harbor for months afterwards. But yeah, I mean, it was a sight to be sure to see all these brown leaves mixing with the water, this icy water in December. The tea leaves are eventually diluted by the mass of the sea. But the symbolism of the rebellion is not so easily washed away. After the excitement of the evening's activities calms down, people start to wonder about the legal implications and what will become of the protesters. If the governor had been so inclined and had had the support of his council, which he doesn't necessarily, but he could have ordered troops to somehow put a stop to it. But they allow it to play out because they didn't want

to create another violent clash like the Boston Massacre. The admiral in the harbor, all he can do the next day is kind of shake his head and be like, these people are mad. That's really all they can do. And then everyone's just going to wait and see what parliament is going to do about this. Thanks to their costumes, only one of the Tea Party culprits, Francis Akeley, is arrested and imprisoned. However, this doesn't mean that the saboteurs' identities are necessarily secret. In a town of 16,000, fewer than a quarter are adult men. It's probable that everyone watching would have recognized at least one person who took

part. But no one will tell. The protesters' choice to disguise themselves as Mohawks is seen not only as a way to conceal their true identities, nor is it simply a product of the ubiquitous racism of the time. Rather, the primary aim of their costumes is to frighten Parliament. By dressing as indigenous peoples with whom Americans and British have fought with for years over land and territory, the protesters want to intimidate authorities into taking them seriously, to prove that they are a fierce force willing to fight back.

a fierce force willing to fight back. As a disguise, it's symbolic. I mean, the American colonists, their ancestors had had to fight and displace Native Americans in order to own the property that they owned and to now then adopt and appropriate that. It is an insult, obviously, to real indigenous people, but it is meant to be this kind of symbolic act of saying, "'Hey, we're gonna take that identity "'that gives us so much fear, take it on for ourselves,

and then use this disguise to strike fear into parliament. This is a very bigoted view, but like, you know, they're saying to the Britain, hey, you think of us as rude, savage provincials? We'll show you rude and savage, right? You know, so I think that's an element of it as well. Again, like, there's a lot of internalized white supremacy there. News of the event spreads quickly through the sons of Liberty's communication channels

to the other 12 American colonies. But not everyone approves. In June of 1774, George Washington, a supporter of the boycott of British goods, voices condemnation of the rebellion, calling the Bostonians mad. When the news arrives in Britain some weeks later, Parliament is furious. In retaliation, they pass a series of laws known as the Coercive Acts, to be put in place until the town of Boston repays the East India Company for its losses.

The acts close Boston to most commercial traffic, throwing everyone out of work. They also end free elections of town officials. Parliament imposes martial law and judicial authority is passed to British judges. Individual liberties are threatened as British military troops take over Boston. By implementing these severe measures, Parliament hopes the other colonies will learn from Boston's fate and won't be tempted to protest. But Parliament is mistaken. In a demonstration of unity, the other colonies rally around Boston. They send food and supplies to the city to make up for its lack of trade. Gradually, the colonies start to unite with one another against the harsh measures imposed by the crown.

Once they hear about Parliament's reaction and how far Parliament is willing to go to punish the Americans, that all of a sudden a lot of Americans are like, whoa, whoa, whoa. You know, things are just getting more and more extreme in terms of what the British government is trying to do to us. Maybe we ought to gather together in the Continental Congress. Maybe we ought to have more widespread boycotting. Maybe we ought to begin buying arms and gunpowder from Europe. And this is what leads Americans on the path eventually to war and independence in the years of 1775 to 1776. In response to the coercive acts, there are further protests. A second Boston Tea Party takes place in March 1774, when around 60 Bostonians board the ship Fortune and throw nearly 30 chests of tea into the harbor.

The Californians board the ship Fortune and throw nearly 30 chests of tea into the harbor. Other tea dumping demonstrations take place in Maryland, New York, and South Carolina. On September 5, 1774, elected delegates from all 13 American colonies except Georgia meet in Carpenter's Hall in Philadelphia for the First Continental Congress. Their aim is to strategize how to resist British oppression. The Congress reprimands Britain for passing the coercive acts and calls for repeal, as well as establishing a further boycott of British goods. It declares the colonies have the right to govern independently. But Congress doesn't truly expect Britain to ever capitulate. So now it rallies colonists to form and train their own militia.

As predicted, Britain does not repeal the coercive acts, which will come to be called intolerable acts. Within months, the American Revolutionary War has begun. Still, historians are divided on whether this colossal act of vandalism and its knock-on effects were necessary to drive Americans towards cooperation and independence. Maybe the American colonies could have followed a path more like Canada's, gaining independence gradually, without a bloody, years-long civil war. But many believe that if it wasn't for the catalyst of the Boston Tea Party, tensions would have come to a head in another way.

One myth that needs busting about the Boston Tea Party is the assumption that Americans only became a nation of coffee drinkers because they considered tea a symbol of imperialism. Americans tend to drink coffee rather than tea. And so some people say, oh, well, it must be because the Boston Tea Party was the Americans demonstrating how much they hated tea. And that's not true. I mean, Americans loved tea, right? They loved tea before the tea party. They loved tea after the tea party. I mean, the real reason why Americans drink coffee

is a lot more boring, right? At some point, it just became cheaper to drink coffee that was grown in Brazil or Jamaica than to get tea from much, much further away. Maybe the masterminds behind the Boston Tea Party were true patriots paving the way to independence. Maybe they were shady capitalists with their fingers in dubious pies. Whatever the truth, the Sons of Liberty could never have imagined that their political rebellion

against taxes would become such an enduring symbol of non-violent protest around the world. We're talking about taxes and monopoly. It can be very complicated, can be very dry, but the act itself is definitely something that's easy for the mind to grasp, and it ends up inspiring other people globally. Gandhi mentions it at one point during his South African protests. You know, this idea of, you know, a very visible statement against empire is something that will have an impact and will be remembered. Next time on Short History Of, we'll bring you a short history of Margaret Thatcher. Margaret Thatcher's legacy is certainly a very enduring one, but the problem, of course, is we're now a full third of a century on since she was signed, and not far off half a century since she became leader of the Conservative Party.

So it's a long way back. There is, firstly, a legacy in popular memory when she was seen as the leader of high unemployment. There's no repeating what people think, but there is more to tell of the story. That's next time.