Scientific Name: Lobelia (of the Poplar, or Mathias de L’Obel)
Spring is here, and it’s time to plant one of my favorite plants of the season. The lobelia. Specifically, Lobelia erinus. This fast-growing ground plant not only fills the shelves of the local nurseries at the beginning of the season, but it also spills over the edges of pots and borders in and outside the residents and commercial buildings around the block, showing off vibrant little bursts of color throughout the season. Growing up, I loved putting these flowers around the house, using the petals in herbal teas and dishes when I wanted to spruce things up. After all, the lobelia is often considered beautiful, undemanding, healthy, and…
Extremely toxic?
Despite being commonly used for teas and folk remedies, one word to describe the reputation of the lobelia is controversial. It’s mired in conspiracy. The plant is simultaneously hailed as a panacea and cursed as a poison, though no substantial scientific research definitively proves either side. It is associated with both saints and witches, considered both a symbol of hope and malevolence. And with all the insubstantial claims of this plant’s hospitality and hostility, it seems more informative to look at lobelia’s history in human culture than to study the physiological effects it has on the human body.
Originating in the Americas, lobelia was named after a brusque, violent-mannered Flemish physician who studied botany in the 16th century, but the plant itself is rather mild-tempered and delicate. Though planted for its spring-to-summer bloom, the lobelia drops all of its flowers in the face of mild drought and dies of root rot in the face of overwatering. Although it prefers moist conditions, it is commonly afflicted by a fungal disease called “dumping off” (where the stems of seedlings rot near the soil surface) if placed in moist conditions without air circulation. And, although it desires air circulation, lobelia often suffers tragically from frost if they aren’t protected by a leaf covering or indoor shelter (especially if they aren’t in their preferred plant zone, USDA 10-11) and is often afflicted by all manner of garden pests (aphids, mites, slugs, snails, etc).
Growing lobelia may seem overwhelming at first due to its delicate nature. However, the plant desires consistency, and if this is maintained relatively well, I don’t think lobelia is nearly as unforgiving as some of the other plants I have tried to grow. The plant will do well and bloom persistently if you put it in a sunny location and consistently water it along the edges of the bed (rather than over the flower). Lobelia tends to have very stereotypical soil preferences (slightly acidic and well-draining), which means it can do relatively well in various pots with little extra care.
Some people claim that you should fertilize your lobelia until it drops all of its flowers and stop fertilizing it immediately afterward. You often don’t need to fertilize lobelia when it’s already flowering. Although the plant does not appreciate wet foliage, it does pay to occasionally spray the leaves down to help it combat mold.
Despite its sensitivities, gardeners pamper this flower in their garden beds for its aesthetics, planting it alongside spring sweethearts like alyssums and pansies and summer beauties like bleeding hearts and poppies, manicuring the stray branches and dead flowers to maximize its beauty.
On top of this, lobelia is thought to be incredibly beneficial. Aside from its environmental effects as a pollinator, lobelia has been praised for its respiratory and gastrointestinal benefits since pre-colonial times. Native Americans used the plant to treat conditions like asthma, pneumonia, and bronchitis, a practice adopted in Chinese folk medicine and was believed to be due to the lobeline, an alkaloid found in lobelia that works as both a stimulant and a muscle relaxant. The relaxant effects helped combat constrictions or spasms in the respiratory system, and for some reason, individuals claimed the plant cleared excess mucus. According to some studies, the physiological effects of lobeline are similar to nicotine, and even though the FDA originally claimed lobelia does not help individuals quit or reduce smoking, some studies showed that lobelia (especially Lobelia inflata) reduces the effects of nicotine (and alcohol) by limiting the amount of dopamine released by the brain. Lobelia is called “Indian Tobacco” because Native Americans stereotypically smokes lobelia like tobacco, but the plant’s purported benefits suggest that it is exponentially beneficial for respiratory issues.
Lobelia is also called “puke weed” for its purported emetic qualities, which, along with its antimicrobial properties, are thought to clean the body of toxins. However, as a relaxant, lobelia allegedly eases pain and congestion caused by convulsions and spasmodic tension in the gastrointestinal system. Because of its effects, lobelia has historically been used to treat anything from nervousness to cramps to heatstroke, to lock jaw to epilepsy. After a while, it was even a cure for rabies, scarlet fever, syphilis, rheumatism, stomach cancer, and even witchcraft. It was even used to cure relationships when finely ground roots in a meal could reinvigorate a bickering couple.
One recipe claims: “To relax any contraction of the system whatever, take equal quantities of yellow dock, dandelion, burdock, and lobelia, all finely pulverized, and put in eight ounces to a quart of the best alcohol. Let it stand for ten days, shake well, and use as a wash, always rubbing downward.”
Lobelia was even dubbed the “thinking herb,” because it allegedly caters to each individual and decides which symptoms to treat. For example, one doctor claims lobelia will abort a fetus if it is “dead, or in an extremely weakened condition” but will heal both the mother and the baby if the mother is sick and the baby is healthy. It also locates pain in different parts of the body and targets them accordingly, instead of affecting the body as a whole.
According to these sources, lobelia is a force of good. Often paired with other symbols of beauty, the common lobelia often fell under the umbrella of blue flowers that symbolized hope and beauty in the Romanticist movement in the 1700s. The plant was small and pretty, if delicate, and strived for the “infinite and unreachable” both in the garden and medicinal drawers at home. This is the reputation the plant has held for years.
And yet, somehow, in the 1800s, lobelia had become a symbol of arrogance and malevolence in the Victorian language of flowers, the blue flowers specifically noting dislike and white flowers declaring a rebuff. At some point in its lifetime in human culture, a negative connotation began to seep into the value behind the plant, despite its function and effects remaining ostensibly the same. Although people still cling to the purported health benefits of the plant, a new group of people have come up to disrupt their claims.
For example, although the alkaloid lobeline was thought to combat the effects of nicotine by reducing the release of dopamine, several sources claim lobeline behaves similarly to nicotine, releasing dopamine when smoked, and therefore has similar negative effects on the brain. These sources claim lobeline is not only pungent and acrid, but that it is severely toxic to those who visit the garden. While claiming that the purported benefits of lobelia may be true in small amounts, some sources claim lobelia can become quite dangerous and even lethal in large amounts, causing dry mouth, nausea, convulsions, and coma; others claim that even ingesting a few leaves can cause fatal poisoning.
Funnily enough, the flower’s name reflects this dispute as well. Some people believe the word “lobelia” means “showy-lipped”, referring to the vibrant little petals that fashion the lower lip of the plant’s flowers. On the other hand, the man after whom the plant was named, Mathias De L’Obel, was technically named after the French word for white poplar (“aubel”), which used to symbolize death; L’Obel himself occupied himself with helping others through his medical and botanical work, but he was considered combative and brusque in his writing, working during the turbulent times of the Eighty Years War between the Flemish and Spanish.
Those who praise and curse lobelia both claim the other is duplicitous, practicing malpractice in ignorance or greed. Those who claim lobelia is harmful argue that there is no scientific research to prove the plant has the benefits that have been practiced in pre-colonial times and that this is more a cultural belief; they suggest they feel light-headed and nauseous, confirming the emetic effects of the plant. On the other hand, some people argue that rumors of the plant’s toxicity originate from an attempt to smear the reputation of medical practitioners like Samuel Thomson, who sang high praises of the plant and that these claims tainted the medical reputation of lobelia. Others claim pharmaceutical companies slander the herb to discourage people from finding alternative remedies and putting them out of business. Some individuals claim they don’t feel any nauseous effects from consuming the leaves of the plant, and some claim these effects can be avoided by taking cayenne pepper.
In this way, lobelia is reminiscent of the witches, whose malevolence in the seventeenth to eighteenth centuries stemmed from the beliefs and subsequent fears of their community. When witches were tried in the colonial period, faith in the religious system and evidence based on confirmation biases, witnesses, and torturous tests often condemned certain women to be shunned or condemned by those around them. If they weren’t killed, they were depicted to live on the edge of their societies as pariahs, only visited by those who have exhausted all of their options and want alternative methods to treat their ailments.
While the plant falls under zones 10-11 in the USDA, it, like the witches in the 1600s, did not appreciate being scorched. If the conditions are dry, they prefer dappled shade or at least being given plenty of water.
Both witches and lobelia are the tools and victims of gossip. While there is little scientific research on either side of the debate, people who put faith in the scientific and medical community for their professional knowledge often regurgitate information provided by sources that claim to follow the same principles. Just as the women in witch trials were thrown into doubt and shunned by their society despite their stereotypical ability to use their herbs and spells for the benefit of the community, lobelia is often avoided simply because of these rumors, despite the individuals who stand by the plant’s health benefits and safety. Like with the witches, people are afraid of the uncertainty, and use the risks to perpetuate a conflict and blame an outside party.
And like witches, lobelia is believed to be able to think for themselves. With motive, the herb can decide the kind of harm or benefits it provides to the people who decide to use it (according to the people who personify it). As a plant that decides what illness it wants to cure, became a pariah on the outskirts of herb gardens and flower beds.
This may be fitting because lobelia is an herb that was stereotypically found in a witch’s repertoire of herbs, holding magical qualities that helped these figures perform the supernatural. Throwing dried and powdered lobelia could stop an approaching storm, and scattering them beside or under a pillow encourages prophetic visions and dreams. Some groups believed lobelia had the properties of an aphrodisiac in love potions and an energy of protection.
So, even though lobelia has fallen out of the favor of straightforward medicinal practices that other plants (like aloe and dandelions) have solidified themselves in, it solidifies itself in the abstract world of language, highlighting its ability to physically affect the physiological effects of the individual and the physical actions of the community through the pointed intent of language. Personified as a witch, lobelia represents the force behind figurative speech in shaping perspectives within the physical world, in the spaces of uncertainty where science and the visible world leave their shadows.
As for me, lobelia hasn’t presented any harmful effects on my garden or my person, and the flower still sits like a token of goodwill at the top of my cups of tea, especially because these cups of tea are hardly enough to have the adverse effects that might harm a person. However, in the face of someone asking for advice about the plant, I would still be obligated to tell them the story of witchcraft and tell the person to come to their conclusions, much in the way that the world of the media forces us to make our own decisions yet again, and never believe what you see.