Editorial: The Swartland Revolution – honouring the past, looking ahead

Earlier this year, I asked a simple question: Can we still, in good faith, call the Swartland Revolution a revolution?

It landed harder than expected. Some dismissed it as sour grapes – Winemag taking shots from the sidelines. Others found it pedantic, arguing that parsing terminology missed the point of what has undeniably been one of the most exciting stories in South African wine over the past 20 years.

Fair points. But my argument was never meant to be that “revolution,” as applied to the Swartland, was entirely misplaced. Rather, it’s a word that carries too much weight to be used lightly. In a country where political, economic and social revolutions remain unfinished business, words matter. So do the stories we tell about where we’ve been – and where we think we’re going.

Let’s return to the thread. Not to walk anything back, but to move things forward – on firmer, clearer terms.

Let’s start with this: the Swartland Revolution has changed the game. That’s not up for debate. The original group – Sadie, Mullineux, Badenhorst, Porseleinberg – didn’t just redefine a region; they redefined an attitude. A way of making wine that was less about legacy, more about clarity of intent.

Two decades ago, the Swartland was mostly bulk. Hot climate, big yields, nothing more than reliable entry-level wine. Now, it’s a benchmark for purity, restraint, and site-specific expression. That’s no small thing.

What’s more, it gave others a blueprint. A signal that you don’t need a Cape Dutch gable or flagship Bordeaux blend to matter. All over the winelands, you’ll find producers who picked up on that signal, broke with convention, and went their own way.

That’s revolutionary – maybe not in a political science textbook sense, but close enough to count.

The point of the original piece wasn’t to diminish any of this. It was, however, to ask what happens when rebels settle into their triumphs. When those who once pushed against the establishment find themselves becoming part of it – not by design, but by success. When the circle gets smaller, not bigger.

This year’s R9,500 ticket price wasn’t just a number. It was a line in the sand. A reminder that something once radical can start to look curated, exclusive, closed to the average punter.

To be clear, I wasn’t looking for a comp. That’s not the issue. The issue is whether something that once stood for disruption still does – or whether it’s become more interested in preserving its image than expanding its reach.

That’s the tension: between control and openness, between excellence and accessibility, between applause and accountability.

Winemag has never been in the business of cheerleading. I cannot express this strongly enough. Our role is to ask the questions others might avoid – not because we’re out to score points, but because the industry is better for it.

So, let’s ask again: has the revolution stalled? Not failed – but perhaps slowed. Levelled off. Its key players a little less hungry, a little more comfortable.

Real transformation isn’t only about a few standout producers gaining international recognition. It’s about broader change – shifts in how the industry works, who gets access, and who benefits. Progress should be felt beyond the top tier, reaching across the entire value chain.

Yes, the Swartland has shown the way on terroir, minimal intervention, and authenticity. But most South African wine is still made under very different conditions — underpaid labour, depressed pricing, low visibility. That’s the real context.

The original group never claimed to speak for the entire industry. But success has a way of narrowing the lens – of creating its own mythology. What begins as a heartfelt movement often evolves into a valuable brand. And brands, by their nature, come to require custodianship and protection.

The original energy hasn’t entirely disappeared — it’s just shifted. You’ll find it in Ceres Plateau, Stanford, Piket-Bo-Berg and Polkadraai Hills. In the rise of regenerative farming. In the growing appreciation for old vines as an industry asset. In efforts to rewrite the language of wine for non-traditional audiences.

What’s needed now is something of a reckoning. With what’s been built. With who’s been left out (and that remains a massive issue as should be clear to any reasonably minded person). With where the next wave of momentum comes from.

The organisers of the Swartland event ultimately have nothing to apologise for. They helped raise the bar across the board, and South African wine is stronger for it. That said, if the Swartland wants to keep that revolutionary tag, it may need to lean back into that original disquiet that fuelled change – to be open to critique, to disagreement, to reinvention.

The point is that revolutions, by nature, aren’t comfortable. They’re messy, disruptive, uneasy. They don’t neatly come to an end but are always an on-going process. The ideals that first defined Sadie and company – sustainability in every sense (economic, social, environmental) and a relentless pursuit of excellence – are still very much worth holding onto. To adapt Churchill, this is not the end of the revolution. It’s not even the beginning of the end. But it’s perhaps the end of the beginning…