‘Independent’ remains the adjective of choice in promoting and organising the many Australian breweries that might otherwise be grouped under ‘craft’ or (in earlier times) ‘micro’. But companies who persist in waving it around as they take part in the recent string of mergers, consolidations, and various other entanglements are straining the word to breaking point. It’s too much like someone insisting “being single is really important to me, that’s why I married another bachelor!”

The latest was just the other day, when Sydney breweries Akasha & Wayward “joined forces” — their announcement, among other oddities,¹ peppered with the i-word from the opening sentence to its final quote. We’re told it’ll make them stronger “without compromising the independence and quality that have earned both breweries loyal followings” and that they “have shared a vision for what independent Sydney craft beer can be.” The arrangement also bundles in the Local Drinks Collective, a looser partnership which Wayward had already formed with another Sydney brewery, Batch — which was hailed at the time as “a new phase in the evolution of Australian independent brewing” and “a sustainable model for independent beer to truly stay independent.” Media releases for both deals explicitly contemplate adding more “independent breweries” to the mix, and the new Akasha-Wayward entity is actively soliciting outside investment to the tune of $1.5M.

The parties involved in these arrangements don’t loudly proclaim such apparent contradictions every time; other consolidations have made the news in more sober phrasing. But this certainly isn’t the first. Earlier this year, Hawkers and White Bay merged to form Social Drinks Group, taking on an extra $1.5M of their own and appointing a former Heineken executive as CEO. That was celebrated (by them, at least) as “100 percent independent” and they also said they were “already talking to other potential partners” but only interested in those who were themselves “independent and artisanal craft.” And, though the deal later fell through, in late 2022 when Stomping Ground spoke of their acquisition by Good Drinks (itself built from a previous buyout), they said “the fact that they were an independent brand was also a bonus, […] a nice cherry on the cake.”

If all of this isn’t just complete nonsense, we’re left with an extremely impoverished sense of ‘that word’ which merely means independent of the “big breweries” — Lion and CUB, in the Australian context.² This is especially the case if you reflect on the fact that millions of dollars of investment will always come with a lot of strings, whoever is holding them and whatever their terms — just think how much of a self-imposed burden BrewDog’s private equity deal has turned out to be. You lose a lot of your practical independence when people lend you a bunch of money.

The ridiculous irony is that this is just history repeating.³ CUB stands for “Carlton & United Breweries” because it was formed a hundred years ago by several smaller operations joining up; their modern retelling of it cites economic necessity in terms familiar to any of these consolidation stories. These new entities are expansionist and ambitious, so how big will be too big, how many constituent parts are too many? At what point do they feel awkward waving the “independence” flag around — or should the rest of us just refuse to dignify their claim by repeating it? When — and this is me genuinely asking — does someone with an indie purchasing preference⁴ mentally file these partnerships in a different category? My dark suspicion is that a lot of anti-big-brewery sentiment is actually just nationalism reacting against their foreign parent companies anyway, and so is impervious to these concerns — there’s a distinct slippage in the rhetoric around all this, even from the Independent Brewers Association itself, who recently announced a campaign focused on the interests of “Australian owned” beer.

I’ve written before about the supposed value of “independence” and common reactions to big-brewery buyouts and my firm belief is that ownership is one thing and behaviour is something else entirely; I care much more about the latter, and it doesn’t correlate very strongly at all with the former. If these new conglomerates pursue ‘vertical’ integration with more hospitality venues (as some are), they’ll gradually morph into something like a British pubco with a string of tied houses, explicitly or just in practice. Even without that, the economies of scale they’re obviously seeking will distort their local markets to the point a small, upstart operator might not care to distinguish or see much difference between their multinational competitors and their multi-headed pseudo-indie ones.

And it’s worth noting — as Crafty Pint was careful to, in its coverage of the news — that Wayward and Akasha both went through voluntary administration last year, shrugging off the vast majority of about $2M in debts each,⁵ and Akasha had previously raised $1.7M in crowdfunding money, much of it now lost in an ill-fated expansion out to nearby Newcastle. Their founders aren’t in a great position to hold forth on sustainable business models,⁶ and these things should sit awkwardly with folks who base their indie advocacy in (fair) criticisms of multinationals for dodging tax and offshoring profit — those VAs used by independent breweries so frequently lately are perfectly legal, but inescapably involve the public losing chunks of money and local suppliers getting burned.

All of this complicates the idea of “independence” as something worth supporting without adding a whole raft of caveats. I don’t have a better unifying principle to offer: “craft” turned out to be a dead end, “micro” was inherently limited — and “local” is fraught if you ever plan to distribute beyond a small radius. I just want to encourage more suspicion of shallow sloganeering.

1. They’re firmly beside the point, but kept piling up the more I looked, so I’m filing them here: the image featured on the right here is from Wayward’s socials so maybe it’s fair enough they put themselves first, but whoever slapped it together didn’t seem to mind encroaching on their new partner’s logo; Akasha, meanwhile, haven’t yet mentioned the deal at all to their followers; as @oat_kream pointed out, the line about their “complementary” ranges glosses over significant duplication in their lineups that’ll need to be resolved; and the quote Pete gave Crafty Pint — “Dave and I have both been running our respective businesses kind of on our own…” — seems like a real slight against the teams working in each of their decade-old breweries.
2. See the handy Who Owns Your Beer infographic on Crafty Pint for a map of the territory. And note the somewhat-euphemistic phrase “Indie Families” for the kinds of thing I’m talking about, here.
3. Accidentally earwormed myself, again.
4. The Akasha-Wayward media release touts a statistic that 70% of consumers “express preference for independent beer” — but, even with a lot if misinformation about ownership around, that seems wildly implausible (or easily swamped by other considerations) given actual sales data.
5. According to reporting on news.com.au (here and here).
6. Hawkers also went through VA, and its founder is famously outspoken about industry issues across the board. But the Social Drinks deal apparently involves him “stepping back” from the business, so their case isn’t so on point, here.