On the Morality of Viticulture

In recent months I've become increasingly aware of a paradoxical element within the way I construct my identity: wine. It encompasses disparate aspects that I both love and loathe.

On one hand, I grew up in wine coutry where a few bottles of the stuff was requisite fare for any social gathering. The wine rack assumed a natural presence in my conception of adult life. Now in New Zealand where the drinking age is lowered to 18, I've been delving into the oenological world and trying to grasp the characteristics of sundry varietals. It's an acquired taste, one that is almost certainly acquired for reasons beyond mere flavour.

Viticulture holds a special place for me in terms of aesthetics as well. I spent my youth being shuttled to and from school or sport, always gazing out the window into the endless rows, eyeing their heavy fruits jealously and marvelling at the stunning color of their broad leaves. Those vines, standing sentry all across the valley,helped to shape my understanding of the land. I'm almost even disappointed when I find myself in a place without acre upon acre of gnarled rootstock climbing the hillside. When I spent two weeks working a permaculture farm on Waiheke Island here in NZ, I was thrilled to find myself surrounded by wineries. I felt comforted in a way I didn't think possible. I kept telling people how at home I felt there, simply because the landscape was reminiscent of Sonoma.

At the moment I'm even considering biodynamic viticulture as a career path. It seems a natural choice, given that I grew up just down the road from an award-winning label who helped pioneer the field. However, considering the matter more objectively, I've come to notice a few details within the general practice of winemaking that clash with my environmentalist and health-nut ethos.

For one thing, vineyards are the enemies of native landscapes. The indigenous oak woodlands of northern California have been largely sidelined by the parallel repititions of vines, being treated almost as intruders in their own land. As the industry has proved more lucractive over the years, greater areas of land have been clear for planting. This issues is especially poignant in the case of the Gravenstein apples of Sebastopol. The ancient, bowed and stooped trees of this cherished heirloom variety are being uprooted because of their insufficient economic performance; to be replaced by none other than Vitis vinifera.

In the process, previous biodiversity is jeopardized as greater exapenses of native habitat are co-opted for commercial purposes. Conservationist that I am, this leaves a somewhat unsavoury taste in my mouth. Which leads me to my next point: that wine as a beverage is fundamentally a poison, alcohol.

As with any alcohol, irresponsible use can lead to the loss of coherence; a fact with has ever kept me off heavy drinking. A few glasses in an evening is harmless enough, it's true. There are even potential health benefits in the polyphenols of red wine (though the grapes themselves would do just as well, if not better). But in general, I'm not terribly keen on intoxicants. As such the notion of joining and industry predicated upon the proliferation of alcohol makes me uneasy. Perhaps moreso because I don't trust the moderation of most people, and tend to envision the destructive effects; or at least the boisterous abuse some may put the beverage to. Yet likely enough the positive social benefits outweigh the carelessness of the few.

It must also be admitted that the operation of a vineyard is an inherently stratified arrangement. The lower classes undertake the brunt of the hard labour, only to taste little of their efforts. Their refined products fetch prices far beyond their means, especially for the seasonal workers. Perhaps this is simply the inarguable logic of the capitalist system, but I see it as the perpetuation of bourgeoise dominance over their oftentimes ethnic labourers. Maybe social justice is a bit beyond my scope, but the spectre of inequality still haunts my vision of the vineyard.

Returning to the positives though, my research into the Slow Food movement has also proven wine to be an undeniable marker of cultural identity in the face of global homogenization. The terroir of a place is distinct and inimitable. I'm fascinated by the alchemy of soil, vine, fruit and fermentation to produce something wholly unique to its time and place. I see that as something worthy of respect, especially when attended to with an artisanal sensitivity. I've elsewhere described my admiration for such examples of individual passion and committment.

In the end, I believe I'll come to embrace wine through my misgivings, and perhaps work to settle the issues I perceive. It is simply too integral to my understanding of the world. And I would like to think that it does hold the potential to heal the psychic wounds of modernity by returning us to the land and creating a product in rhythm with natural processes.

Besides, what's a social gathering without wine anyways?

Achieving Holistic Understanding

Today I want to discuss environmentalism as a more spiritual practice; or at least a more holistic sensibility. Stay with me here. It is my opinion that broader structural changes will not come without the individual internalization of environmental ethics and the establishment of greener cultural values. At present, natural resources issues are still measured against the ruler of economic performance and short-term return. This is the devil's algebra, for lack of a better expression. What we need is an alternate means of conceptualizing value and making policy decisions that reflect this. If our ecological relationships were mediated by something approaching religious respect, then our courses of action would not be given over to such perverse equations as the aforementioned.

Admittedly, this post comes on the back of just having finished a book entitled Environmental Philosophy and Ethics in Buddhism. That's where I'm drawing these notions of 'spirituality' from. It is not meant to connote anything remotely theistic. Instead, I conceieve of it as a certain level of understanding regarding the interconnectivity of all the animate forces that inhabit Earth. It is simple ecology, kicked up a notched into metaphysics.(As a disclaimer, no acid has been dropped in the writing of this post).

What it promises is an escape from purely economic thinking, and a reassertion of respect for the complex systems emplaced over evolutionary time. These naturally constructed communities, these webs of being, are being wantonly destroyed by contemporary human activity. They don't factor into our reasoning very strongly at all. This is regardless of religion as well. Modern Buddhists can have a carbon footprint as well.

However, I have come to find positive solutions in the practical philosophies of the Buddha. After all, the Buddha's pedagogy was a multi-tiered system that emphasized contextual responses over strict imperatives. For instance, laymen were given differing instructions than the monks in the ways to lead a decent life. A farmer could still plough his land for agriculture because food is a necessity, though many plants and bugs may be destroyed in the process. Conversely, the monks were restricted from such professions, and were even advised not to travel during the rainy season when they might trample the emerging worms. As such, you'll find none of the categorical moral philosophy that was popularized by Kant in the Western tradition.

The implication of this is that the individual retains a greater amount of responsibility for his own enlightenment, in the same way that we should each be cultivating our own experience-based sensibilities towards the environment. This allows for a much stronger connection to our actions than being instructed what to do by an elevated power such as the government. We should feel how to act and behave towards the land. We should inherently know that strip-mining is an inexcusable violation of the Earth, or that fracking too is condemnable practice.

Ultimately what I'm suggesting is a shift towards eco-centric ethics; a mindset where all of life is taken into account equally, rather than being overshadowed by anthropocentrism. The route I've taken to this sensibility is through Buddhism, but that is by no means the only way. Some of the most passionate environmental literature I've read has been authored by bona fide Creationists who view themselves as stewards of this planet. But the effect is essentially the same. I believe that if only we taken these issues to heart and understand them on a more spiritual or holistic level; or however you might describe it; then a sustainable world may yet prevail.

Planting New Seeds

Hey, guess who's still here.

After an extended absense, I've decided to take up the mantle once again and will be ranting and raving about all things related to environmentalism, food culture and the seemingly unrelated subject of metal music.

The fields have lain fallow for nearly a year now, but as of today I'm preparing to sow a new crop of iconoclastic posts to shake you from the shackels of industrialized life.

There has been a great deal of unexpected change within the intervening year for your humble author; not the least of which was dropping out of college, moving to New Zealand, attending Buddhist meditation retreats and other such shenanigans. All those details will come in due time however.

For now, listen to some Lunar Aurora.