Addiction, Accountability, and the Alcohol Industry: Rethinking Wine’s Place in a Shifting Health Narrative
As lawsuits target alcohol employers and the FDA declares wine unsafe at any level, where does that leave wine professionals—and the mindful drinker?
In a story that sounds almost satirical, a man in Ireland is suing his former employer—a brewery—for turning him into an alcoholic.
His job? Beer taster.
On the surface, it’s the kind of headline meant to provoke either laughter or rage, depending on how you feel about personal responsibility. But beneath the tabloid gloss is a more complicated story—one that speaks volumes about how our culture is struggling to reconcile the enjoyment of alcohol with growing concerns about its harm. And it lands squarely in the laps of those of us who work in wine.
Because this lawsuit isn’t just about beer. It’s about the evolving line between exposure and excess, work and wellness, tasting and tumbling headlong into dependence. It’s also happening at the same time as the FDA and WHO increasingly shift toward messaging that there is no safe level of alcohol consumption—period.
For wine professionals, this is a deeply uncomfortable moment. We are asked to teach, to inspire, to curate joy and discovery. But the louder the drumbeat of health warnings becomes, the more we find ourselves being asked an entirely different question: Is what we’re doing dangerous?
When work blurs the boundary
Let’s go back to the beer lawsuit for a moment. The man—let’s call him Michael—claims that his job as a beer taster required him to drink "four to five pints a day" as part of daily quality control. According to him, the repeated exposure, combined with a workplace culture that normalized drinking, led to dependency.
Is that extreme? Yes.
Is it entirely unbelievable? Not really.
In the wine world, many of us taste every day. Some of us spit; some of us don’t. Hospitality staff may be encouraged to “familiarize” themselves with the list. Educators and judges often sample flights of dozens of wines. Winemakers drink socially with peers, sometimes as part of hospitality or business. And sommeliers can find themselves ending every shift with “just one” that turns into three.
So the question becomes: At what point does professional engagement slide into personal harm? And who’s responsible when it does?
The FDA, the fear, and the fallout
In recent years, public health messaging around alcohol has shifted dramatically.
Once upon a time, a glass of red wine was part of the French paradox, a headline-friendly theory that suggested wine—particularly red—could be part of a heart-healthy lifestyle. It was baked into the appeal of the Mediterranean diet. It was romantic. Even righteous.
That era is over.
The FDA, the WHO, and other major institutions are increasingly promoting the message that no amount of alcohol is safe. Not one drink. Not one day. Not even for heart health.
Rather than definitive evidence, it may be the weight of caution that’s driving this narrative shift. But the messaging has become absolute, sweeping, and—some would argue—borderline puritanical. It flattens nuance. It offers no room for context. And it places wine professionals in an awkward place:
How do we teach about wine as a cultural artifact, a tool of celebration, a language of place and time—while acknowledging that it is also a psychoactive, addictive substance?
Tasting is not drinking—but is that enough?
There’s an old saying in wine circles: “We taste; we don’t drink.”
That may be true. But it doesn’t shield us from the larger narrative.
When a beer taster sues a brewery, or when the FDA declares wine a health risk, the subtle distinctions we make inside the industry become irrelevant to the public. The outside world hears one thing: Alcohol is dangerous. Alcohol professionals are complicit.
It’s an unfair framing, but it’s a reality we can’t ignore.
As educators, we must be honest. Not just about alcohol’s risks—but also about its role in our lives and our cultures. We must be mindful, not moralizing. Clear-eyed, not complicit. And we must understand that addiction is real, but not every sip is a slippery slope.
What we owe our students—and ourselves
I don’t believe in hiding from these conversations.
I also don’t believe in giving up on wine as a force of good—when handled with care.
Wine can still be:
A source of joy and community.
A lens for understanding geography, history, and climate.
A bridge between cultures, cuisines, and people.
But that doesn’t mean we get to ignore the changing winds.
We must talk openly about boundaries, mindfulness, and consent—even in tasting rooms. We must check in with ourselves and our peers. And we must be willing to listen when someone says: This doesn’t feel safe for me anymore.
Because while the headlines may focus on lawsuits and bans, the real work is quieter. It lives in the choices we make each day—what we pour, how we taste, and how we teach.
Holding space for nuance
These conversations aren’t easy, but they’re necessary. Because wine isn’t just a beverage—it’s a mirror. And when we lose sight of its context, its ritual, and its humanity, that’s when it starts to feel dangerous.
I wrote more about this idea in a previous reflection, “Wine isn’t the problem. Disconnection is.”. It still rings true: the harm often lies not in the pour, but in what’s missing around it.
One final swirl
This story of the beer taster isn’t just an outlier. It’s a reminder.
That even the work we love must be handled with intention. That our health matters, too. And that in this era of extreme takes—wine as either poison or panacea—it’s okay to hold space for the complicated middle.
The place where enjoyment meets ethics.
Where tradition meets science.
And where we choose to drink—or not—with clarity, care, and full consent.