A Report From Wine Explorer Diego Samper
Paris, France
The glass in your hand looks simple enough. But if history teaches us anything, it’s that governments have always had a way of turning simple pleasures into battlegrounds.
Wine has been with us for eight millennia. Longer than most gods. Longer than any political system. Clay jars in the Caucasus. Amphorae in Greece. Monks in Burgundy. Immigrants in Argentina planting vines before they built theaters or schools.
Wine has never been just alcohol. It is memory, agriculture, ritual, identity. That’s the part too often forgotten. Wine is an experience, a story, a choice. And when it’s attacked, what’s really being targeted isn’t drunkenness. It’s liberty.
The state has never trusted a full glass. In 1920, Prohibition in the U.S. turned citizens into bootleggers and politicians into hypocrites. Quebec allowed wine but not whiskey, as if grapes were somehow more moral than grain. France passed laws to protect Champagne from fakes, while Finland rationed vodka to preserve order. Different motives, same result: the state always wants to decide what you should drink, how, and when. And the more it intervenes, the more absurd the rules become.
Now the conversation has gone global. In September, at the United Nations, alcohol was nearly branded the new tobacco. Imagine that—your glass of Barolo lumped in with a Marlboro.
The UN failed, for now. Surprise, surprise, the bureaucrats couldn’t agree. Maybe they’ll need another session, all expenses paid by your hard-earned dollars, to decide what would be “good” for you.
And if they had agreed? That extra money on your bottle wouldn’t have gone to the farmer, or the winemaker, or the family vineyard keeping traditions alive. It would have gone straight into the taxman’s pocket. And from there, more committees, more programs, more rules written by people who have likely never harvested a grape in their lives.
Even John Stuart Mill, writing in 1859, understood the line. His harm principle in On Liberty was clear: the state should only intervene to prevent harm to others. What you choose for yourself—what you drink at your own table—was none of its business.
High taxes may not be as blunt as prohibition, but they work the same way. They manipulate behavior through financial penalties, steering your choices instead of trusting you to act rationally.
And the consequences fall hardest on the wrong people. When governments keep piling on costs, it all adds up. Not for the bureaucrats—they just collect—but for the winemaker and for you. The small producers, the ones who dared to do something different, are the first to fade. Every extra burden pushes them closer to the edge, while the mass-market giants, built to survive on volume, tighten their grip. What disappears is not excess. It’s diversity.
Take away wine and you don’t just lose a drink. You lose culture. You lose the family in Salta keeping criolla grapes alive. You lose the winemaker in Beaujolais who has pruned the same vines his grandfather once touched. You lose the memory of places and years you’ll never get back.
Because wine doesn’t compete with vodka shots or light beer. It competes with books, with tickets to the theater, with the gift you bring to a friend’s house. Its job isn’t intoxication. It’s transformation. It slows dinner. Extends conversation. Turns a Tuesday night into something unforgettable.
Think about it. You don’t bring Peter a six-pack of beer for his birthday. You might bring him a good whiskey. Something with history. Something with a story. Wine belongs in that same space—not just drink, but experience. And that is why it unnerves the state. Because it resists uniformity. Because it thrives on difference. Because it reminds you that you still have the right to choose.
And choice, in the world we are moving toward, is becoming a luxury.
You already know what it feels like when your paycheck is clipped, when groceries climb higher, when every bill carries a new surcharge. Why would you want that same hand reaching across your table, taxing the wine you pour for your friends?
Wine is not the state’s to confiscate. It is yours to choose.
So with all due respect to the WHO and the UN… hands off my wine.
And if you choose independence, you can choose it in your glass too. Any of the wines we’ve set aside this week are waiting in our store, or just text WINE to (844) 934-1670 and see what we might have for you.
We’ll answer, human to human. No AI necessary. That’s how we keep this club—small, personal, hands-on. The way wine itself should be.
Because freedom isn’t abstract. Sometimes it’s as simple as being able to pick your own bottle, pour it at your own table, and share it with the people you care about.
Diego Samper
Wine Explorer
P.S. If you haven’t signed up for our club yet, you can send us an email here to register. Our Spanish collection is coming in strong, and you’ll want a seat at the table when it lands.
