In Napoleon’s Buttons, authors Le Couteur and Burreson set forth to show that “momentous events may depend on something as small as a molecule” (6). They seek to demonstrate that chemistry and chemicals have played an essential role in the course of history, and, in this reviewer’s mind, succeed rather brilliantly. Although the book is hardly without its flaws, it presents a compelling case that chemical compounds rightly deserve a place beside economic, political, and social factors in shaping the history of humankind.

Although written in an informal style for the lay-reader, the authors include a pleasantly rigorous discussion of chemistry. The book does an excellent job of describing the basic components of organic chemistry, and does so without delving too far into the torturous naming conventions that give it a bad name. Each of the molecular groups discussed in the work receives a thorough scientific evaluation, and the authors successfully maintain the unifying theme of how small differences in composition can lead to large differences in properties. Unfortunately, the exercise of dissecting molecular composition becomes tiresome at points, as formal training in chemistry is required to really understand what the differences in structure do. Nevertheless, the chemistry portions of the book were comprehensible and useful as background material.

The book is divided into seventeen chapters, each of which can be considered a standalone essay (although the authors do describe connections between different molecules as the book progresses). The authors freely admit that, although they consider the seventeen molecular families profiled in the book to be among the most important in world history, many people will disagree with their choices. Hydrocarbons (including oil and natural gas) are an obvious omission, especially since the 20th century was so affected by them and their uses. Uranium hexafluroide, representative of the nuclear revolution, is also quite surprisingly left off the list. Yet the real point of the book is not to make the case that these seventeen molecules are the most important, but instead to analyze the impact that chemistry has had on history. In that respect, these seventeen essays are interesting and instructive; reading this book provides an important perspective on history and its determinants.

The book was written by two chemists. On the upside, the scientific foundation established by the book is sturdy and complete. On the downside, the book’s approach to history is–to an extent–lackluster. Without the benefit of a professional historian as a coauthor, the book suffers from an unfortunately sparse analysis of the social, political, and economic impact of chemistry. All too often the authors ascribe chemistry an undue importance in shaping world history, simplify and minimize other factors, and fail to put their analysis in context and perspective. A deeper level of historical scholarship is, alas, not to be found in this work. Although they wisely place their introductory anecdote (about the brittle tin buttons of Napoleon’s army wrecking his Russian campaign) in perspective, they have a habit of getting zealously carried away elsewhere in the book. Nevertheless, the work accurately and compellingly portrays the need to incorporate chemistry into the framework of history. When put into perspective, the effects of chemistry offer valuable insight into history and world affairs.

One of the most fascinating sections comes early in the book, and involves the use of ascorbic acid to treat scurvy. The authors estimate that “for centuries, scurvy was responsible for more death at sea than all other causes; more than the combined total of naval battles, piracy, shipwrecks, and other illnesses” (40). Scurvy was of such a debilitating magnitude that it severely impeded exploration and overseas colonization; European nations were unable to claim and colonize much of the Pacific for centuries because of the scourge of the disease. Yet, as the authors chronicle, cures for scurvy had been fairly well documented and known for centuries. Famed British explorer James Cook was one of the first seafarers to systematically adopt the use of ascorbic acid in warding off scurvy, and was consequently crucial in helping the British to establish a dominant presence in Asia. His sharp, fit, and healthy crew was instrumental in his triumphs. Ironically, it was a false perception of the economics of shipping that slowed the adoption of ascorbic acid; merchants and naval planners across Europe mistakenly believed that the costs of equipping ships with a supply of citrus would outweigh the benefits of a healthier crew. The lessons of their misconceptions remain applicable to this day: the informed application of scientific theory triumphs over the common wisdom of tradition. Suppose, as the chapter’s conclusion does, that Spain, Portugal, or the Dutch had followed this principle centuries before the British finally did so. The Spanish empire would’ve probably been dramatically expanded to include such areas as Indonesia, stunting the rise of the Dutch Republic as the world’s foremost commercial power. Portugal could’ve expanded its colonial empire considerably. The Dutch might have laid formal claim to Australia and New Zealand before the British ever arrived. The histories of China, India, and Japan would no doubt have been irrevocably changed. Without the era of Pax Britannica, there’s no telling how world history would’ve been affected. All because of ascorbic acid.

Several other tidbits were particularly interesting. The book’s analysis of the social effects of oral contraception was spot on.

Norethindrone was more than just a fertility-controlling medication. Its introduction signaled the beginning of an awareness, not only of fertility and contraception, but of openness and opportunity, allowing women to speak out (and do something about) subjects that had been taboo for centuries–breast cancer, family violence, incest. The changes in attitudes in just forty years are astounding. With the option of having babies and raising families, women now govern countries, fly jet fighters, perform heart surgery, run marathons, become astronauts, direct companies, and sail the world. (222)

The book’s discussion of salt is similarly penetrating. The authors insightfully describe how in India (and other colonies), “control of salt supplies meant political and economic control” (305). The British were able to effectively control the salt trade in India, and in so doing cemented their grip on the country. One of the key events leading to the British loss of India was when it lost control of the salt trade following Gandhi’s famous protest. As Napoleon’s Buttons chronicles well, salt has been an integral substance in human history.

But, for this reviewer, the most insightful portion of the book came during the discussion of dyes. In particular, the lessons of how Germany “developed a huge organic chemical empire along with the technology and science on which it was based” (177). Many British and French chemical producers were “forced out of business as a result of an endless series of patent disputes over dyes and dye processes.” The British, apparently failing to see the value in chemistry, failed to invest much entrepreneurial and intellectual capital into the fledgling chemical industry. Instead, England began selling raw materials and chemical precursors to Germany, allowing Berlin to cultivate a high-tech chemical manufacturing base. The German government, on the other hand, did recognize the value of the chemical industry. There tended to be close cooperation between university scientists and industrial producers; that productive synergy was “vital to the success of the German chemical industry” (178). Furthermore, the development of this chemical empire put Germany in an excellent position to launch the pharmaceutical revolution. Significant financial capital could be reinvested in new research projects, such as aspirin. More importantly, along with Germany’s large chemical empire “came a new wealth of chemical knowledge, of experience with large-scale reactions, and of techniques for separation and purification that were vital for expansion into the new chemical business of pharmaceuticals.” The value of investing in technology and promoting research and development through synergistic partnerships between government, business, and the university system, as this teaches, must not be undervalued.

The book’s handling of cotton, however, was disappointing. This is, perhaps, the prime example of overzealousness in applying chemistry to history. The authors make the bold claim that “cellulose, in the form of cotton, was responsible for two of the most influential events of the nineteenth century: the Industrial Revolution and the American Civil War” (85). This is a serious overstatement, and the authors fail to substantiate either claim with sound historical analysis. While no historian would deny that cotton played a role in both, it’s erroneous to claim that cotton was the single driving factor behind either. The book’s analysis of the American Civil War is particularly galling. The authors claim that “slavery was the most important issue in the Civil War between abolitionist North and the southern states.” In fact, while slavery certainly played a role in triggering the war, it was primarily caused by deeper political factors. Questions over federalism and the power of the states, and significant differences in political culture (inflamed by economic divisions) both played bigger roles than slavery. Abraham Lincoln himself believed that maintaining the Union was more important than anything else, including the issue of slavery (the abolition of which he used in a tactical manner to maintain the northern coalition and deter the European powers from intervening on behalf of the Confederacy). The South’s production of cotton and the ensuing system of slavery, while important factors, do not deserve the importance ascribed to them. The Industrial Revolution was similarly brought about by a complex interaction of movements, technological and social changes, and politics. Although cotton was indeed an important factor leading to the Industrial Revolution, its role as described by the authors is a gross simplification.

Another historical anecdote of questionable value is found under the discussion of ergot alkaloids. These molecules infect foods and can cause medical epidemics. In the summer of 1722, Peter the Great was bringing a Cossack army down toward the Black Sea in order to accomplish his goal of securing a warm water part for Russia. While camped at Astrakhan, however, his troops consumed contaminated rye; “the resulting ergotism supposedly killed twenty thousand troops and so crippled the tsar’s army that his planned campaign against the Turks was aborted.” This is indubitable. However, the authors conclude by claiming that “Russia’s goal of a southern port on the Black Sea was stopped by ergot alkaloids.” This assertion is highly questionable. Even supposing Peter’s army penetrated all the way through Turkey (a doubtful proposition), and was able to capture a port, he lacked enough logistical support and firepower to hold onto his acquisitions. The Ottomans would have been all but certain to force him out. If they didn’t, and Peter somehow managed to defeat the Turks, Austria or Britain would have most assuredly intervened. Tipping the balance of power in Eastern Europe so dramatically would have invited a military response that Peter simply had no chance of countering.

Napoleon’s Buttons is a thoroughly interesting book analyzing the chemical properties and historical influences of various molecules. Although the authors have a tendency to get carried away with the importance of chemistry, they effectively convey the point that chemistry has been and continues to be an important factor in world history and current events. Despite the fact that the historical analysis is generally shallow and often not put in context, as a chronicle of chemistry and history this book finds success. Tepidly recommended.