(Manfred Klimek / animated image: Runwayml)
On 23 February, three days ago, bankruptcy proceedings were opened against the assets of Domaines Kilger GmbH & Co KG at the Graz Regional Court. The stark figures are drastic: a loss of 26.67 million euros is reported for 2024, liabilities stand at over 80 million, and equity is significantly negative. An expansion that was celebrated as a new beginning has, for the time being, ended in insolvency.
Hans Kilger, a Bavarian entrepreneur, once came to Southern Styria and presented himself as a man who could make things happen. And that is exactly what he became. He bought up what others had given up on or could no longer manage: long-established businesses, pubs, wine merchants and vineyards. He invested in hotels, gourmet ventures and land. With Uwe Schiefer, he brought one of Burgenland’s most independent winemakers into his new structure. Domaines Kilger was established in Western Styria, with partnerships and acquisitions following later. The narrative was clear: here was a man building a gourmet empire that united wine, cuisine, agriculture and tourism under one roof.
Looking back, there is much to criticise about it. The buying spree seemed increasingly ambitious, and at some point even overextended. New projects appeared to be plugging old gaps. The organisation grew faster than its underlying assets. It was foreseeable that this structure would only work as long as sufficient capital continued to flow in.
And yet it would be an oversimplification to portray Kilger solely as a failed dreamer of grand schemes.
He was – for all his euphoria, for all his overconfidence – one of the last major private investors to make a significant investment in viticulture in Austria. At a time when banks are cautious, public subsidies do not cover everything, and many family-run businesses are grappling with the issue of succession, here came someone with money, courage and drive.
The region did not hold him back. It won him over.
The pattern is nothing new: when an uncle from abroad wants to spend his millions in the provinces, he is welcomed with open arms. People rejoice at the fresh funds, the renovations, the new kitchens and the international attention. They praise the momentum, the innovative drive and the vision. And when it later becomes apparent that a self-assured entrepreneur has overestimated his capabilities, the tone changes abruptly. Suddenly, it was all predictable. Suddenly, nobody wants to have been part of the project. Then the talk turns to the ‘investor’ who ‘didn’t get it’.
But uncritical go-alongism is no minor role. It is shared responsibility.
Anyone who applauds an expansionist model as long as it attracts investment and creates jobs should not be surprised if they also bear a share of the risks. The Styrian and Burgenland food and drink industry has benefited handsomely from Kilger’s capital. From modernised operations, to marketing pressure, to a level of professionalisation that would not have been possible in some establishments without him. The fact that this growth was not structured sustainably is a management problem. The fact that it went unquestioned for so long is a regional one.
The bankruptcy of Domaines Kilger is therefore more than the failure of a single individual. It holds a mirror up to an industry that, on the one hand, desperately needs investors – and, on the other, morally discards them as soon as the going gets tough.
The truth is more uncomfortable: without people like Kilger, there will be hardly any new major investments in the Austrian wine sector for the foreseeable future. The mood is subdued, returns are uncertain, and regulation is high. Anyone investing in vineyards, hotels and gourmet projects today needs staying power – and a great deal of idealism.
Kilger had both. Perhaps too much of each.
In the end, an ambivalent picture remains. An entrepreneur who thought too big and grew too fast. A region that was happy to go along with it. And an industry that must now face the fact that one of the last major investors is out of the picture.
This should not end in schadenfreude. But rather in self-reflection.