Polymers and pachyderms: the fascinating history of plastic
Do you ever look around and think, “How did we get here”?
Not in an Ancient Aliens kind of way.
I was thinking more like, how did we get to a point in time where plastic — an irrefutably and terrifyingly toxic substance — is almost unavoidable in our daily lives? Even those of us trying to consciously reduce our plastic consumption are surrounded (dare I say haunted) by its ubiquity.
So how did we get here? As it turns out, the story of plastic is a fascinating ride through history.
Polymers and pachyderms
The use of polymers — long chains of repeated molecules — began as early as 1200 BC with the Olmecs in modern-day Mexico. The Olmecs played with balls made of rubber, a natural polymer derived from, fittingly, the rubber tree. From then until our next stop in 1862, there were dozens of examples of polymers being used to create things. Rubber saw tremendous advancement, and experiments to enhance it helped pave the way for scientists and inventors looking at a different (yet chemically similar) polymer — plastic.
Back in 1862, when oval hoop skirts were all the rage and Abraham Lincoln was busy being honest, an Englishman named Alexander Parkes decided mixing cellulose and nitric acid sounded like a great way to pass the time. His experiment resulted in a concoction he shyly named Parkesine. Parkesine was one of the earliest predecessors to modern-day plastics, and it was marked by the desirable combination of strength and flexibility. But Parkes couldn’t keep momentum going after the material was showcased at the World Fair, and his company eventually went bankrupt.
Enter: well, first, there’s a brief pause in the progress of plastic.
Then, enter: the Hyatt brothers.
John Wesley Hyatt, an American inventor, saw an add in the New York Times seeking a substitute for ivory. At the time, ivory was being used to manufacture billiard balls — a staple in fancy people’s living rooms. This ivory, of course, came from the tusks of elephants, and the demand for it led many to believe (falsely) the iconic species would soon join its furry cousins over the Extinct Species Rainbow. People were also concerned Hawksbill Turtles were dwindling as their shells were similarly used to make things like hair combs and bracelets. They couldn’t see these poor species erased from the planet! What would they use to make their beloved trinkets? Noble, noble people.
Alright, back the Hyatt. He experimented with all kinds of dangerous substances before mixing camphor with the cellulose-nitric acid combo that Parkes had shown off some years back. Et voila, camphor-cellulose-nitric acid was born! Thank goodness John’s brother, Isaiah, was around to re-brand it as celluloid.
Ok, thanks Isaiah, you can go now.
Celluloid (it has a ring to it, don’t you agree?) was just as durable and flexible as Parkesine, but the camphor gave it another special quality — malleability. It could be shaped and molded into just about anything the heart desired, although legend has it billiard balls weren’t really it’s calling. They made too loud of a crack when they hit each other. So, Hyatt doesn’t collect the prize money he sought, but he does inch us closer to the world we know and love/hate today. And check out this statement his company put out in a brochure for celluloid:
“…it will no longer be necessary to ransack the earth in pursuit of substances which are constantly growing scarcer.”
Would you look at that… plastic practically saved the planet! Oh, the irony.
Are we there yet?
Until now, “plastics”, which were not even called “plastics” yet, were made from naturally-derived materials. Cellulose from plant walls, shellac from beetles. It wasn’t until Belgian-American chemist Leo Baekeland came along in 1907 and mixed formaldehyde with phenol (a waste product of coal) that we saw the first synthetic plastic, a promise of freedom from the constraints of the natural world. He called this new material Bakelite, and filed for hundreds of patents. Baekeland is often regarded as the father of plastics, although his work built on many years of previous advancements. His use of fossil fuels rather than plants and animals paved the way for a wave of new plastics which dominated the 1930s. Radios, televisions, film, jewelry, kitchenware… you name it, it was plastic.
A big part of what made plastic a household material in the United States was the war effort dominating the decade. Plastic’s versatility lent itself to an array of military uses, from manufacturing vehicles to covering food. The plastic look that would characterize 1950s found its roots in World War II as manufacturers sought innovative replacements for scarce natural resources. Once the war was over, manufacturers were left with the machinery to mass-produce plastic like madmen. But, alas, no more need. So they created one, and planted it deep in the hearts of American suburbians who they just knew would love non-breakable, bendy food storage.
And there you have it: an abbreviated history of the material we’ve grown so familiar with. Save the animals, win the war, and make everyone happy by selling them piles of stuff.
What the future of plastic holds is not entirely unpredictable. For a number of reasons, plastic production as we know it will be, relatively speaking, short-lived. But for now, you can head to your nearest Walmart and gawk at endless aisles of the material that most strongly permeates our lives, knowing its history and pondering what will be of its future.
Well, its future will be millions of years in a landfill, but you know what I mean.
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On a more serious note, this article is attempting to make the history of plastic anecdotally accessible. In between these major keystones lie years of advancements, and you can find them here should you care to learn more.
