Michael Fridjhon: When the media dies, fine wine becomes just another lab-grown luxury

We are one of the world’s top ten wine-producing nations. We have what is arguably the most creative and exciting wine industry on the planet – and yet we cannot sustain a wine media. There are a couple of online sites, some blogs, and a few print columns. The annual Platter’s SA Wine Guide sells a fraction of the copies once snapped up within weeks of publication. Wine has almost no presence on radio and even less on TV. Except for social media – the most transient and least engaging form of contact – our wines have no real platform on which to strut.

This is no sudden development. It’s been a long, visible decline – a slow-motion crash. A few decades ago there was WineLand/WynBoer, a print edition of Wine Magazine, a quarterly from ClassicFM, columns across newspapers, magazines and business publications. Wine was discussed on radio, often in regular slots on talk shows, and featured from time to time on TV news.

While commentary has declined, domestic sales have improved, probably reflecting a marked increase in the number of people for whom wine is the drink of choice. It’s worth noting that in most international markets where wine has a greater share of the alcoholic beverage mix, participation in wine courses rises accordingly – but not in South Africa.

There are many possible explanations for the dearth of interest in wine editorial, from consumers feeling disconnected from what is published to – more plausibly – most drinkers being interested only in drinking pleasure rather than wine “culture”. In other words, a small sliver of geeks engages with the minutiae; a vast market swirls and swallows rather than sniffs and spits.

On its own, this is hardly lamentable. It is more important to have enthusiastic drinkers than battalions of nerds exchanging notes on arcane esoterica. But it need not be either/or. It is possible to want more from what’s in the glass than the taste sensations of a particular bottle at a point in time. This is part of what distinguishes wine from other alcoholic beverages. If wine were merely another bundle of flavours, severed from the cultural and agricultural forces that shape it, it could not also be an artefact of craft. If it becomes only grape-derived alcohol, it risks being displaced by whatever new beverage is more socially appealing.

The less demand there is for serious, thought-provoking content, the fewer writers there will be – and those who remain will become lazier. We are already seeing AI-generated text on websites and blogs: the literary equivalent of recipe-made industrial wine, with no connection between craftsman and artefact. That this is happening at all – beyond indolence or intellectual dishonesty – reflects a broader failure of engagement on both sides.

This is therefore more than nostalgia. It is both symptom and cause. If the industry is to endure, it must retain a strong, visible craft component, driven by real personalities able to articulate what they do and what they produce. If the time comes when no one cares, consumers will default to the most accessible, best-marketed bottles. Why persist with wine, why seek to understand intent, if consumption becomes entirely passive – the tippling equivalent of doomscrolling? Without engagement there is no connection, no act of apprehension; nothing endures beyond a fleeting sensation, easily replaced by another equally banal beverage.

This is not an academic concern. It lies at the centre of wine’s survival as an art form, at the nexus between the craft of production and the skills required for appreciation. Producers who fail to recognise this as a critical issue, who assume smart marketing is sufficient for long-term success, may discover too late that their market has evaporated. In the near future, technology will be able to replicate – at the cost of making Coca-Cola – the taste of Romanée-Conti or Sadie’s Mev. Kirsten. Without understanding the conditions that create great wine, consumers will not pay what it costs to produce it.

Instead of lamenting declining consumption and relying on influencers clutching bottles and glasses, producers, merchants and writers must invest in rebuilding – almost from scratch – an audience that understands what wine is and how it enriches life. Anyone operating in the fine wine space, who recognises the importance of terroir and site-specific production, is at risk. There are no exceptions. It is the responsibility of everyone who cares about wine to ensure genuine engagement.

In the 1930s, the retail price of a great vintage of Romanée-Conti or Château Lafite was around 10 UK shillings (R1). Adjusted for inflation, this equates to roughly £30 today. Instead, a comparable bottle of Romanée-Conti costs closer to £10,000. The wine has not changed, nor has the site. What has driven the increase is perceived desirability in the face of limited supply: demand has outstripped availability.

There is no guarantee this will persist. Lab-grown diamonds – visually and chemically identical to natural stones – have already stripped more than 95% from the price of mined equivalents. The moment consumers cease to value rarity, the premium disappears. The same could happen to great Burgundy, to old-vine Chenin, to Vilafonté. Without an understanding of the art behind the rarity, it is just another bottle of (mostly) H₂O – another piece of compressed carbon.

• 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.