Theories Of The Post-Natural
Much ink has been spilled in order to try and define what ‘natural wine’ is, and this essay will not tread that same worn path. Instead, it will recognize and appreciate the good and the aim of it, and prune the parts which have grown too shady. The Post-Natural (which is a term this author has now used for some time, but one cannot use an unidentified term in one’s Instagram bio and expect that to serve as a full thesis) acts as a philosophy and an ethical guiding principle without the prescriptive rules or definitions offered by some more militant factions of the industry. Some of these factions are indeed why this essay feels necessary.
To date, natural wine is both a subject and an object, a time period and a counter-culture movement. Much of its revolt in the past fifty years has been against the industrialization of wine production, with aims taken at both (though not always equally so) agrochemicals in the vineyard and winemaking products and their widespread use in wine. The original aims of this cause were noble, and even punk in ethos, but just as the punk music ‘genre’ eventually gave rise to Fall Out Boy, so too has the very principled aim of natural wine been reduced to a watercolour label and a ‘funky’ flavour. The theory of the post-natural would be to argue against natural wine as a ‘genre’ or a niche in and of itself, and more as an attempt to steer the entire wine ship away from the calamity that might end in unbridled capitalistic AI-made wine and labour-abusive, factory-esque farming. It is a counter-culture that hopes to shift the dominant culture.
Post-Natural, then, is both how I feel at the moment (as a wine person in a perpetual state of ennui) but also how we all might benefit from moving forward. Though a spelling out of the many ‘requirements’ a wine or winery might meet for being post-natural is one way to outline what the philosophy is about, the post-natural can’t do that because it is intersectional and takes constraints of place and time into account.
Firstly, then, some guidelines about what post-natural will not be wrapped up in: zero-zero winemaking and the related obsession with sulphur dioxide, a privileging of biodynamic systems over native and, in some cases, Indigenous farming practices, or a required look and flavour in the glass. The post-natural has bigger fish to fry than the additions to wine, which sometimes are as innocuous as adding water in hot regions (which does change the wine, sure, but also assists in making it more palatable with the most naturally occurring substance there is), and though less is more in the winery, it does not believe in bottling vinegar for fear of being ousted from the industry.
On the vineyard side, the post-natural would also like to point out that some of the most vaulted regions in the world of natural wine regularly meet the high end of legally allowable copper sprays due to their wet and fungal-inclined climates. To quote Okanagan winemaker Jordan Kubeck, “Vines like warm dry regions, and these places are easy to farm organically. They are the closest to the birthplace of the vine.” The post-natural, therefore, will (somewhat begrudgingly), recognize that as much as we all feel like drinking the high-acid, low-alcohol wines that are often found in cold wet places, there are fewer and fewer years and regions that can make wines like this as the climate changes.
To be subversive now is to talk about context, to politicize wine, and to question what the ethical production of wine means. As snidely as he may say so, Tim Atkin has pointed to the stark and cringe-worthy reality that the “great estates… never use their pulpit to tell us how Syrah will stop the rise of fascism in Europe.” (Post Modern Wine 2023) He raises a point, however, that the medium still can and should be the message. If the eradication of indigenous grape varieties can be understood as a travesty and a crime so easily, then it should not be a stretch (or somehow taboo) to speak about protecting diverse peoples and their vital roles in agriculture at large. If one has a platform (or a wine label) through which to speak out against racist industry leaders or systemic discrimination in a historically white profession, one should do so.
A movement, therefore, is still necessary to combat the industrialization of any artisanal trade, but the movement has off-shoots that have become the very thing they feared: militant, exclusive, suspicious, and in some cases, simply a function of marketing. The desire to vault biodynamics and to continue to use Steiner’s term ignores indigenous cultural practices of farming, and thus the post-natural should be a space where we talk about farming systems and land as regenerative, or permaculture. A reliance on the quasi-religious teachings of a nazi-sympathizer should not be the prescription for all farming across planet earth - especially given that valerian root and horsetail do not grow indigenously in all places. Indigenous plants and a commitment to biodiversity are immensely positive parts of this system, however, and should be pieces we hold dear in the future.
On a personal note, for a few years now I’ve found it necessary as a wine buyer to define my preferences in regards to buying wine as somewhat natural, but have felt helmed in by many of the definitions of the category offered by others. I also find myself desiring typicity and regionality in a classical sense that is eschewed by many natural producers — this is the educator in me that desires to find wines that speak truth in their labelling but still represent well-known places for wine drinkers.
One area I needed most desperately to provide clarity personally was an area that feels well-documented elsewhere, but still comes up frequently in conversation. The natural community is quite bound up in their desire to talk about and eliminate the use of sulphur dioxide - a subject about which I do not understand their fixation. While excessive use of sulphur dioxide can be problematic, it is hardly the message we need to spread to the public: that no-sulphur winemaking is the most important flag to plant in the sand- and this topic has been well-covered already by Dan Keeling in Noble Rot, (Don’t Sulphur Fools, 2022). So many other manipulations might have been selected as the worst possible winemaking addition, but I suspect in large part that since sulphur dioxide is easier to say that diammonium phosphate, it was easier to carry pitchforks against. However, when discussing the impact of various winemaking additions, sulphur dioxide can’t really be judged as the most harmful, so why does it receive the most vitriol? For instance, use of diammonium phosphate, or DAP, an addition given to fermentations to ensure that yeast have enough energy to carry fermentation to completion, is arguably a much more ‘disruptive’ addition to a fermenting wine than SO2, yet I’ve never been asked if a wine used DAP in the laundry-list of fact-checking from wine drinkers or sommeliers.
In the vineyard, the post-natural gets political about labour. The people who work the land and their safety, health, and well-being may be a hard part of winery philosophy to convey to consumers and restaurant guests, but it is a vital piece of the winery ecosystem that is oft-ignored. Steve Mathaiasson of Napa Valley once remarked that he gets asked every day about parts per million of sulphur dioxide in his wines, but nobody cares if his vineyard workers have health benefits. Taking care of people is a vital aspect of the post-natural, and SO2 additions are perhaps less-so. There are many wine-growing superpowers that seek to criminalize the bodies of workers more and more with each passing day, and the hypocrisy of winery owners to profit off their labour and then turn the other cheek when ICE rolls in should be unforgivable within the wine community.
The post-natural also does not believe that proliferation of wineries and viticulture is always a positive thing, as the market cannot bear an infinite expansion of available wine and we already operate at millions of tonnes of global excess of wine each year. Wine is precious, and thus over-producing in a world where water and natural resources are scant is akin to a cardinal sin. Therefore, just because something is “naturally” made doesn’t mean that more of it should always exist.
The production of wines from native varieties and diverse grape material should be a greater focus. Biodiversity is important on many levels, of course, and the protection of vitis varieties beyond vinfera should be considered as part of the picture. Biodiversity of species - cover crops, native grasses, and presence of woodlands (again, if they are native to the place) are central to a thriving vineyard, so is diversity within grapevine species. Failing the presence of native varieties, varieties that are more drought hardy and disease-resistant should be made higher priority. Again, one cannot be overly prescriptive globally, but should consider the unique challenges and intersectional needs of a given region.
While on the subject of the vineyard, this essay wouldn’t be complete without naming no-till farming and the hot topic that it is. Some producers with issues of soil compaction on certain heavy soils have struggled, or are even fully dismissive of this as a trend, but it is worth bringing up again and again, nonetheless. Not to pick on biodynamics, again, for failing as an overly prescriptive farming system, but it does have written into its tenets the need to plow soil. Plowing and tilling disturb microflora of the soil, which in turn assist the vine in taking in vital nutrients. It is for this reason that Éric Texier of the Rhône will not follow biodynamics, further echoed by Mimi Casteel of Hope Well in Oregon, who terms her farming as both holistic and regenerative. Both producer-viticulturalists (coincidentally, both of whom hold PhDs in related scientific fields) describe undisturbed and un-cultivated soil as better at retaining water and maintaining oxygenation via movement and growth of grass and crop roots. No-till is not only about vine health but the health of the surrounding soil and plant life as an ecosystem that contributes and will proliferate into the future, regardless of wine production in that place.
While the aim of the post-natural is not to insist that all producers move to a no-till system, it is important to emphasize the evolving understanding and importance of individual climates and individual biospheres when discussing approaches to soil and farming. It’s hard to ask people about farming practices if you all do things differently. There is no catch-all way to communicate to buyers that farming is environmentally sensitive if in one place it’s rainy so there is robust ground cover and another is a desert, so it’s fairly sparse, but diversity of approaches is as exciting as diversity of wine styles and grape varieties. That is the beauty of the world of wine, after all, that each place does something differently and achieves a different result.
As much as post-punk had to evolve from punk, there are many bands that preserved that original ethos, and went on to embody the aims of original movement in a bigger and more meaningful way than expected (see Fugazi through the lens of the late Taras Ochota, winemaker of Ochota Barrels for example) and post-structuralism took on a much longer life than structuralism itself ever did. Therefore, goalposts of the natural movement are still similar: a focus on farming and biodiversity in a very local lens, without prescriptive farming rules, but placing preservation front and center, with less dogma surrounding the winemaking specs and a greater understanding of wineries and wine business in context of people, labour, and politics. These aims feel lofty, nay, impossible, even, for some. The focus used to be on what was (or was not) in the glass, and that’s enough for certain people. I can’t begrudge anybody the desire to spend a lot of time thinking about the flavour and balance and deliciousness of wine. These are joyful (if not also confounding) topics with which one could spend a lifetime toying, but there is also significant weight to the environment and the people who shape the lifecycle of wine, and aesthetics may now need to take a backseat.
Cover Photo by Sasha McEwen
