Keukenhof:Tulip Mania

Strangely, part of the Netherlands history in the 17th century was defined by an exotic flower originating from the valley of Tian Shan (Mountain of Heaven) thousands of miles eastwards. Strangely, the unknown flower found no popularity where it was born, but was hailed as goddess on a piece of low-land in Western Europe since it made its journey westwards to reach Dutch people who admire its beauty.

I arrived at Amsterdam in late March when the tulips in Keukenhof were supposed to begin their full bloom. I was imagining immersing myself in fields of tulips. Red tulips, white tulips, orange tulips, purple tulips, and black tulips... I was welcomed by cold rains in late evening, and the wind deprived my umbrella of its job. To warm my numb hands, I took shelter in a Kebab shop at the train station and satisfied my stomach with a chicken Kebab topped with Mayonnaise and leafy vegetables. The Kebab was unexpectedly delicious and made my dinner for the next two days in Amsterdam. It was a homey feeling to find a warm well-lighted place on a rainy day, and it is probably the feeling that took my feet into the shop every day.

The next morning, I was planning to take a train to Keukenhof, the world-famous tulip garden that measured 32 hectares with 7 million flower bulbs planted every year. The plan failed as I was notified of a nation-wide power failure at the train station. There was no train. Nation-wide power failure! That was something! Maybe not if the size of the country is taken into perspective.

Luckily, the buses were still there to carry off the worried passengers who were forced to change their travel plans. I landed at Keukenhof at midday. Established in 1949, the garden proudly shows off flower hybrids from all over Netherlands and Europe. For flower lovers, it is a convenient collection of all climax of beauty. For merchants, it is an exhibition with huge trading potential. After all, the Netherlands is the world's largest flower exporter. Once being the "kitchen garden” of a Jacqueline, Countess of Hainaut's castle, Kenkenhof has now been transformed into a hall of fame housing over 800 variety of tulips and other flowers. I know, by saying "other flowers", I'm not doing justice to the beautiful petal collections that are equally, if not more stunning.

Yet, stunning as they might appear, hardly any other flower possess the power to direct the Dutch history, at least partially. In 1593, when the Flemish botanist Carolus Clusius started cultivating tulip bulbs in his private garden as his subject of academic researches, he wouldn't be able to envision that the value of a soil-covered tulip bulb would rocket to as much as the price of an estate in the 1630s.

The flower sustained perfectly the low-land harsh conditions and their burning colors set the Dutch people on flame. Their exotic bright colors were crazily sought after to adorn the gardens of the well-off and estates of the noble. People are always anxious to take possession of what is rare. If the rare has already been possessed by others, the desire would grow even stronger. Such competitions fuel the initial Tulip speculation. The tremendous flexibility of tulips to give new hybrids and yield novel color combinations provides another source of mania. The onion-shaped bulb might bloom into a delicate rare tulip no one has seen, which constituted tremendous sources of pride and vanity. Clusius, the botanist, was especially interested in the "breaking" of tulips, meaning that a single-colored bulb suddenly boasts feathery patterns of colored hues on the petals. In fact, the extraordinary pattern of tulips was produced by a virus known as mosaic. Diseased tulips were so pricey and botanists strained their brains to produce a disused tulip emblazoned with distinctive patterns and colors.

The tulip fad defined Dutch history in the 17th century. Prices began to soar in an unbelievable rate to a level that was seen as one of the earliest financial bubbles. A bulb was worth a house. There was always someone who was willing to pay a high price as long as the bulb is surprising enough. The "surprising" onions have exceeded astronomically its intrinsic value as a flower that blooms, just as any other greenery of its kind. Until, one day, when the crowd has liquidated too much of their properties for speculation, the prudent ones decided to sell off their bulbs in exchange of money. Market begun to collapse in 1636-1637, and speculators witnessed a wealth drop. The once-honored tulips degraded into inedible onions.

As bubbles broke, the Dutch life recovered gradually and tulip mania rolled into history, leaving little trace of influences centuries later. Some might still remember the "good old days" for tulips when they landed at Keukenhof and thought of the virus-affected treasured breed upon seeking the feathery hues on the tulip petals today. History melts into an incomprehensible legend. It is legendary as the maniac speculations in the 15th century are incomprehensible to the 21 century rational minds.

Or, is it really, incomprehensible?

Charles Mackay, a Scottish journalist offered the first relatively complete account of the tulip mania in his book Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds (1841). His crowd psychology regarded the tulip mania as a typical embodiment of crowd mania. "We find that whole communities suddenly fix their minds upon one object, and go mad in its pursuit; that millions of people become simultaneously impressed with one delusion, and run after it, till their attention is caught by some new folly more captivating than the first." The crowd of people is seeking after easy profits in the 1630s, dreaming of big fortune growing out of their tulips. "Many individuals grew suddenly rich. A golden bait hung temptingly out before the people, and, one after the other, they rushed to the tulip marts, like flies around a honey-pot. Every one imagined that the passion for tulips would last for ever, and that the wealthy from every part of the world would send to Holland, and pay whatever prices were asked for them."

Indeed, profitable markets never failed to attract speculators who wish to gain without making substantial efforts. Commodities are being traded at values too far away from the intrinsic value of the goods. Or rather, there is no necessity of the existence of commodities in such market. The cruelty of such market is that the big fish eats up the smaller ones in whole despite the fact that small fishes are the most vulnerable to losses. If the Dutch craze of cheap tulips is hard to understand, then think of the real-estate bubble, the stock market bubble, and the dot-com bubble in this century. In essence, we are following the same logic. For the big fish: let my gains be based on other people's pains. For the small fish: I want to gain without pains. And, with such spirit, the golden bait oftentimes turns out to be poisonous.