There’s not much we should thank Donald Trump for, but the one imperial gesture which has restored an air of sanity to social discourse is the nail he has struck into the coffin of gender proliferation and wokery. With the exception of extremely rare gender dysphoria, it’s safe to say that the First World’s obsession with a smorgasbord of sex/gender options, and the cancel culture fascism which helped to drive the juggernaut, has been brought to a halt. It won’t completely vanish overnight, and its consequences will be with us for as long as the surgically “transed” pre-puberty kids live out their lives in an ungendered nomansland.
I’m ready to concede that this is an unlikely way to begin a column about wine. But in the madness which ensued when the fashion of political correctness was able to gain access to the nuclear deterrent of cancel culture, the most immediate and obvious victim was common sense: we can be certain that a male sex offender masquerading as a woman (because he/she says he/she identifies as such) is likely to cause havoc in a female prison. There are things which we just know to be right/correct/appropriate and we don’t need to waste time trying to imagine the exceptional circumstances where the suspension of disbelief is a prerequisite.
At the other end of the spectrum, there are activities/issues which are so nuanced that it doesn’t appear possible to have any kind of consensus. One of these is criticism – meaning the critical appraisal of art, or wine, or fine dining. Partly this is because once a judgement is based on subjectively selected criteria, it’s difficult to assert that the opinion which flows from it is anything but relative.
But it is easier to make a case for the role of criticism – however flawed – and the rights and entitlements of critics compared with those they criticise. Criticism shouldn’t be malicious, nor should it be used deceitfully (such as to undermine one producer because another producer has paid the critic to do so). This doesn’t mean that it shouldn’t be hurtful, just as long as the critic is not using the occasion to show off his virtuosity as a writer, or simply to exercise his power over a victim.
It flows from this that sometimes the power of the critic – and the power of whoever is being criticised – should be taken into account. If a food writer who can make and break restaurants hammers a three star Michelin restaurant because it’s not living up to its pretensions, he’s doing exactly what is expected of him. But if he does it to a start-up local bistro, the disproportion between force and object emits the unpleasant odour of bullying. And when an important advertiser tells a publisher to spike an honestly written article because it reveals some uncomfortable truths he would rather keep hidden, that smacks of censorship.
South Africa’s wine writing fraternity has long been a threatened species. In the 1980s and 1990s every serious publication employed a wine writer. Consumers were hungry for guidance and producers recognised that editorial played an important role is helping the wine market to evolve. This doesn’t mean that producers were happy when their products got a bad press. But even the biggest wine business in the country at the time recognised the importance of objective commentary. When it found it was being hammered on a regular basis it didn’t “cancel” the critics: it called a one-day symposium (to which all of the serious wine writers were invited) to clear the air and find a way forward.
Today there are probably fewer than five serious wine writers in South Africa. There are no print publications which focus on wine: even the foodie glossies seem to have forgotten that wine should be an integral part of their message. The crass expectation that advertising is a trade exchange for editorial has so contaminated the environment that no one expects objective content – and amazingly, as a result, hardly ever gets it.
This article is not an impassioned plea to all the WineMag readers who have steadfastly avoided paying for content. (It should be, because if you’re drinking good wine you should be able to invest R55 per month to keep the last consumer-facing wine publication in the country alive). It’s about the importance of a free press, whether about wine, food, or news. After all, if there hadn’t been a Daily Maverick, it’s unlikely that the leaks which revealed the extent of State Capture would ever have seen the light of day.
It’s about demanding a culture of critical engagement in the world of Cape wine. We need thoughtful, well-informed writers to talk about preferences and options – even if these necessarily involve saying that a well-established producer has failed to connect his vision to the reality of his fruit: you can’t make a Southeastern Australian monster shiraz with grapes from Elim, and an honest journalist has a duty to call it. As long as we hide behind scores – many arrived at in sighted tastings (which means they are little more than an extension of the marketing message) – we reduce commentary about wine to a social media thumbs up/down.
We need writers informed and brave enough to wade in and say what many may be thinking but are either too self-conscious or fearful to say. And we need producers who value the quality and freedom of their wine press more than their precious egos. (Surely they can’t be that insecure they fear that a single negative remark will destroy their brand?) We don’t need anymore tasting notes, ratings out of 100, paeans, panegyrics and praise poems to the vinous equivalent of our World Cup Rugby Squad. We need writers who will talk truth to power, shame producers of over-priced ordinary wines, and think deeply enough about the aesthetics of Cape wine to be able to comment usefully about the entire eco-system.
Demanding and difficult-to-impress consumers are the lifeblood of the wine industry. If anyone really wants to know why Millennials and Gen Zs are not embracing wine with the same fervour as their parents, it might be because they have seen through the charade and will have nothing to do with the old deal. They don’t want the industry to decide what they should drink, and at what price. They don’t want the assumption of rarity (which leads in turn to the take-it-or-leave-it marketing of stock allocations). They may not yet know what they want, but they know they don’t want to be talked down to. FOMO may sell wine for a while but it won’t provide allure. The next generation of wine lovers wants a real engagement. An honest, thoughtful and thought-provoking wine media offers the only real referee between producers who have become accustomed to calling the shots and the still tentative curiosity of newcomers who want and need to discover the endless fascination of the vinous universe.
Michael Fridjhon has over thirty-five years’ experience in the liquor industry. He is the founder of Winewizard.co.za and holds various positions including Visiting Professor of Wine Business at the University of Cape Town; founder and director of WineX – the largest consumer wine show in the Southern Hemisphere and chairman of The Trophy Wine Show.
Dining and Cooking