In viticulture, there has always been a wonderful way of increasing the value of a plot of land—even without planting a single vine, building a new cellar or producing an exceptional wine. The owners declare the vineyard a ‘Große Lage’. Suddenly the address sounds more significant, the bottle may be more expensive, and the bank may view the properties more favourably.
Of course, it does not work quite that simply. But nobody should underestimate the economic significance of an official classification of vineyard sites. In Austria, a dispute about this has been ongoing for years and has now even reached the Constitutional Court—an extraordinary route to the highest court in matters of viticulture. The judges have now found that, of all institutions, the one that was supposed to play a decisive role in classifying vineyards lacks a sufficient legal basis to do so. Put simply, the National Wine Committee was given powers that the applicable Wine Act does not grant it. Remarkable news for an industry that otherwise prefers to discuss frost, drought and sales problems.
The idea behind the classification is by no means nonsensical. Quite the contrary. Anyone familiar with Burgundy knows what significance the origin of a wine can have. Sometimes only a few metres separate an ordinary village wine from a Grand Cru, but economically they are worlds apart. Over the course of decades, the Austrian Traditional Estates have worked to create a comparable awareness of the quality of individual vineyard sites. Particularly in Kamptal, Kremstal and the Wachau, there are vineyards whose names have long enjoyed international recognition. The idea that this origin should be communicated more clearly and classified according to comprehensible criteria is fundamentally reasonable. Austria has great vineyard sites. It would be absurd to pretend that all vineyard areas are of equal value. The question, however, is who sets the differences in binding terms. For there is a considerable difference between the expert conviction that a particular slope produces exceptional wines and the state-backed entitlement to market it as a ‘Große Lage’. Especially for those whose properties miss out when the ‘titles of nobility’ are distributed.
Several winegrowers have therefore challenged the arrangement. One of their spokespeople is Kamptal winegrower Alois Höllerer. His criticism is directed at possible conflicts of interest, a lack of transparency and the economic consequences of such decisions. The classification is by no means merely about the label on a wine bottle. It can influence the value of properties, change the possibilities for using them as collateral and determine the confidence with which a business presents itself in the market. Anyone who owns a vineyard that was still regarded as an excellent site yesterday but is officially only second-rate tomorrow will notice the difference by the time it is sold, at the latest. Höllerer also points out that good wine has something to do with the winemaker’s skill. A thoroughly likeable idea at a time when some vineyards apparently need only have their names mentioned to produce excellent wines. Now, however, Höllerer is, with all due respect, not one of the really great names in Austria.
The Constitutional Court, however, did not taste any wines. It neither decided whether Heiligenstein is better than Lamm nor ruled on whether the Austrian classification is convincing from a technical perspective. Its ruling concerns the legal structure. The National Wine Committee was supposed to classify vineyard sites for the designations ‘Erste Lage’ and ‘Große Lage’. The Minister of Agriculture could then establish these classifications by decree. If the committee rejected a classification or remained inactive, the minister had no way of reviewing the decision or taking action himself. In the judges’ view, this meant that the committee effectively possessed official powers. The necessary statutory authorisation, however, was missing. In addition, when making these decisions the body was neither subject to the minister’s instructions nor to his supervision. That contradicts fundamental rules of Austrian administration. Even in viticulture, you cannot simply put your own authorities together.
Michael Moosbrugger, chairman of the Austrian Traditional Estates and one of the key architects of the classification system, views the decision calmly. In his view, it is a formal error that could be rectified as part of the new Wine Act planned for 2027. His argument is understandable: the Traditional Estates have invested considerable work in a system intended to make Austrian wine more comprehensible and competitive internationally. Why should the entire industry not benefit from it? In fact, it would make little sense to discard a classification developed over many years simply because its statutory implementation was unsuccessful. On the other hand, it is a rather Austrian notion to regard a breach of the principle of legality as an annoying formality that can be repaired when convenient. The rule of law is not a footnote in the small print of a wine regulation.
The conflict is also somewhat explosive because the decisive bodies include representatives of the chambers of agriculture and commerce, the wine-growing regions, the ministry and the wine marketing organisation. The Court of Audit has already criticised the fact that not all affected winegrowers were sufficiently involved. This is where the real problem begins. When an industry develops its own quality framework, that is initially an expression of expertise and self-responsibility. But when this framework acquires legal force and creates economic winners and losers, different standards apply. The rules must then be transparent, reviewable and fair to everyone affected. After all, a vineyard does not become inferior because its owner belongs to the wrong association or drew the short straw in a vote.
In all this, one thing should not be forgotten: even the most famous European vineyard classifications are not laws of natural science. They are based on history, experience, economic development and sometimes decisions made long ago under entirely different conditions. In Burgundy, the rankings developed over centuries. In Bordeaux, the market price at the time was a key criterion in the 1855 classification. Both have produced remarkable wine cultures. But nobody should infer from this that an official classification automatically proclaims the truth about a wine’s quality. Anyone who has ever tasted a mediocre 1er Cru and a magnificent wine from an unremarkable site knows the difference between classification and reality.
Austria needs a comprehensible framework for its best vineyard sites. I have little doubt about that. It can help winegrowers communicate their origins clearly and offer consumers guidance. But such a framework must be credible. And credibility does not arise from allowing those who already control the most famous vineyards to have a decisive say in which other vineyards may be allowed to become famous in future. That may be well-intentioned from a technical perspective, but politically and economically it is a delicate arrangement.
The Wine Act will now have to be revised. The opportunity would be a good one not merely to repair the paragraphs criticised, but also to fundamentally review the procedures, criteria and rights of participation. The large estates have good arguments. The smaller businesses do too. A sensible system would have to do justice to both. For it can hardly be the purpose of a vineyard-site classification to perpetuate the existing hierarchy with official stamps.
And one more thing: in the end, it is the wine drinker who decides anyway. They are entitled to find a wine from a ‘Große Lage’ disappointing and one from a completely unknown vineyard site magnificent. Fortunately, this freedom has not yet become the subject of a regulation.