Does Scotch whisky have a class problem?

Image: wal_172619 / Pixabay

Diversity in Scotch whisky – or the lack of – is not a new conversation. But in our collective quest to broaden its audience are we overlooking class biases? And what does this say about our own internalised perspectives?

Class. It’s a squirmy, unwieldy, often spiky concept, yet one that’s existed for millennia. We know what we mean by ‘class’ – but classism still feels hard to define. And, as a child of a low-income, working class family who now identifies as middle class, it’s a concept that shows up in awkward internalisations and jarring realisations. For something that shouts so loudly when you listen in, it feels strikingly taboo. 

It’s also something that undeniably shows up in Scotch whisky. From outdated ideas around the type of people who might have an alcohol addiction through to the people investing in six-figure bottles (imagine if they overlapped!), class is everywhere. Just think about which sports are whisky – or whisky hip flask – adjacent. From the cocktail bar to the corner shop, what we buy – and more relevant for this piece, what we think we should or could enjoy – is informed by more than just purchasing power or palate alone.

Of course it isn’t just class. Much has been said about gender and whisky. Ethnicity too. And age. None of this can be taken in a vacuum. But for now, let’s see if we can extract class as a concept as much as is reasonable. 

Class as self-identity

First up, it’s tricky to define class groups. For the purposes of this piece, I’m focusing on working class and middle class groups in the UK. There’s SO MUCH MORE to explore on class internationally, and I am wildly underqualified to do so. Just consider the lingering effects of colonialism and why some imported products are seen as ‘better’ and it’s clear this remains a modern day issue. We’re sticking to class and how it shows up in the UK.

What these class groupings mean is different to different people. It could be about salary, the type of work someone engages in, or it could be more cultural. It’s something that is rightly – in my view – self-identified. But we broadly all understand what is meant by ‘working class’ and ‘middle class’. 

My working hypothesis: whisky has become too middle class, and it’s unintentionally or otherwise excluding large groups who don’t fall into that demographic.

According to Gov.uk figures, 48% of UK adults identify as working class. To try and get a wider feel for things beyond my own perspective, I asked my Instagram and LinkedIn communities for their top-line experiences of class. 68 people responded. Obviously this is a flawed study. There’s no control group. It’s solely drawn from people I know. I’m not a statistician and the following data hasn’t been weighted in any way. I do words, not numbers. That said, I still think the responses are fascinating and it’s interesting to dig into them. Just take the numbers with the appropriate pinch of salt. 

Of those who responded, 72% work in the drinks industry. Of those, 45% said they had a working class background, and 32% said they considered themselves to be working class now. Both those numbers are below the national average. We talk about representation and hiring policies around gender and ethnicity. Does the whisky industry need to consider whether its hiring practices attract more working class applicants? Clearly it’s not a decision to be made on this limited data alone, but it does feel like it’s a subject worth further consideration.

Advertising and marketing

So that’s one perspective of where we are today. Another interesting lens to view class through is marketing and advertising. Aspirational marketing is always going to be a thing – it’s how the sector works. Show something, make it appealing, people want it, they may buy it. It’s interesting to explore how a product is positioned as appealing. I feel there is a class element.

Earlier this year, Channel 4 and Republic of Media commissioned a report exploring social grade and class in the media industry. It questioned whether the widely used Socio Grading (SEG) system was outdated. This is the system which defines the likes of ‘ABC1’ audiences for targeting, a group said to encompass the upper middle, middle and lower middle classes. These are set broadly by occupation – think managerial positions. It’s a report I personally welcome. Grading anyone by their profession feels reductive and unrepresentative at best. Dig a little deeper and it feels like it plays on wildly outdated stereotypes. Also, why is this group inherently seen as ‘better’? An ick indeed.

The study audited representation within TV advertising. According to its findings, Northern accents were two times more likely to be coded as working class, while characters depicted as of ‘lower social grade’ were 50% more likely to be from an ethnic minority. 

“Working on this project has made us unpick some of the assumptions around social grade and class and question whether this is okay – and what impact does this have on the ads being produced and broadcast to the nation?” Samantha Cannons, Channel 4 research manager questioned. “We don’t have all the answers – but we do want to raise some of the key issues surrounding the topic and provide some ideas to think differently about when it comes to advertising.”

So let’s consider whisky. In recent times the likes of Glenmorangie and Glenlivet – and others – have been celebrated for their ads. Colourful, bold, featuring women and ethnic minority groups – these are all huge steps forward in the brands’ (obviously totally legitimate) quests to become more inclusive. Some got it more right than others. But by conflating whisky with ball gown fashion, art, fancy apartments and celebrities, as these ads and others seem to, are we missing out on huge demographics when it comes to class?

What these ads achieve is a broadening of the perceptions of who drinks whisky – which is of course a positive. But I don’t see any working class representation. What these media do uphold is a sense of exclusivity. This is a special drink only for a few. For an occasion, or a moment in time. We all know the feeling. It goes way beyond whisky. It might be a suit or a dress or something else. The outfit you wear to a wedding. A fragrance, eeking out something precious. Is this inherently wrong? Of course not. A quest for something special and rare feels like human nature. Ask any collector – books, art, badges, Pokémon cards, cars. It’s not just about price. Having something scarce just feels special. We see this in whisky all the time. But exclusivity is just that – it’s exclusionary, too. Is there a way for whisky to tread the line between the two? And is exclusivity even inherently classist?

Exclusivity and inclusion

I think this is where single malt Scotch especially has got stuck. We could talk about price inflation. We could talk about the ‘halo effect’ of headline-grabbing sales that elevates interest in certain distilleries. Single malt is an inherently scarce product. It accounts for less than 10% of Scotch production. It’s made in batches. It’s not immediately available – it has to be AGED before it can even be sold! Even with all this, I think it can work harder to be more democratic. And that’s where positioning – and focus – comes in.

Marketers, advertisers, communicators, journalists have to give as much air time to all aspects of whisky, not just the fancy collectors’ editions and five-figure releases. We’ve pigeon-holed single malt Scotch to be just one thing – elevated. And elevated in a way that is middle class-coded. 

But whisky wasn’t always like this. Dive back in time and whisky’s mass appeal started in grocers where communities would come and source their everyday drinking blends. Single malt wasn’t a thing. It wasn’t really until the 1990s that the collective positioning of malt as ‘better’ than blends started – and, for the producers, this malt rebrand has been a runaway success. But I would argue this has come at a cost to the fundamental accessibility of single malt – and the class cues that come with it. 

It isn’t just price point. Working class folks can and do hold wealth. It’s about representation and pulling back on the exclusivity that’s unfortunately come to define Scotch, especially single malt. 

Digging into whisky and class brings up more questions than it answers. This is just a kick-off point for more discussion – and I really welcome it. Because whisky is for everyone – not just in terms of gender, age, ethnicity. Class plays a part in rectifying the structural inequalities, too.