When Did Sake Culture Become “All About Praise”?

Looking at today’s sake market, it appears more vibrant and sophisticated than ever. The quality of specially designated sake (tokutei meishoshu) has reached unprecedented heights, complemented by sleek label designs, the rise of young brewers, growing international acclaim, and the emergence of a premium high-end market. At first glance, it seems as though we are experiencing a “golden age of sake.” Yet, behind this brilliant leap forward, there is a crucial element that remains decisively missing: “criticism.”

Most of the current discourse surrounding sake is dominated by pure praise, the sharing of emotional stories, or “support” rooted in deep empathy for the brewers. No matter how eagerly you follow the words in magazines, web media, or from social media influencers, the lines are filled only with absolute affirmations like “everything is wonderful” or “each has its own unique personality and tastes delicious.”

When did we become so blindly kind toward a consumer good that we pay our own money to purchase?

This article is not intended merely to accuse sake writers or influencers of their attitudes. Instead, it is an attempt to unravel the structural background of why “criticism” has failed to develop within the sake industry, while “support” has become an absolute virtue. Furthermore, it will discuss why “bitter criticism” is precisely what is needed right now for sake to mature as a truly international, premium consumer culture, and as an independent culinary tradition.

1. Where the Sake Industry Stands Today

In sake reviews shared across media and social platforms, it is exceptionally rare to come across explicit negative evaluations or questions raised about quality. Even for limited-edition bottles priced at several thousand or sometimes tens of thousands of yen, the narratives remain entirely one-sided, focusing strictly on positive angles like “the brewer’s burning passion” or “the delicate gradation of flavors.”

While this current state—where everything must be labeled as “delicious”—might look like a happy, victimless world on the surface, it is fundamentally nothing less than a “comfortable uniformity” that strips away both diversity of expression and the consumer’s basis for selection.

Asymmetry of Discourse in Sake Media

In a market devoid of criticism, all products are displayed flatly as “good things.” In such an environment, the difference in value between a 3,000-yen bottle and a 30,000-yen bottle is no longer discussed in terms of liquid quality, but rather solely through the luxury of its packaging or the rarity of its story.

Even when a flavor exhibits a clear flaw, such as an off-flavor, it is often reframed with euphemisms like “that is just the unique character of wild yeast” or “it adds to the charm of its complexity.” This kind of linguistic inflation and ambiguity in evaluation ultimately robs consumers of an objective basis for comparison, leading to price competition and brand homogenization across the entire industry.

2. “Support Culture” as a Form of Salvation

Why, then, has this “support culture” become so deeply entrenched in the sake industry? Looking back historically, this “kindness” was an indispensable survival strategy for the industry.

From the late Showa period through the Heisei era, the sake industry endured a long period of stagnation. It was a time when the intrinsic value of sake was significantly damaged by the remnants of the mass-production and mass-consumption era, the cheap image of paper-carton sake, and persistent stereotypes like “sake is an old man’s drink” or “it gives you a terrible hangover.”

Amid these challenging circumstances, regional micro-breweries, specialized sake retailers, and pioneering sake writers worked tirelessly to convey the new value of the craft. The jizaki (regional sake) and ginjo booms were not mere passing trends; they represented a movement to redefine society’s perception and prove that sake is a profoundly fascinating culture.

The role of media and writers during this era was not that of an “umpire” rendering objective judgments, but rather that of a “running partner” supporting small breweries through a harsh market environment. By aligning themselves with the brewers’ passion and delivering their backgrounds and stories to consumers, they sustained a fading regional industry. There is no doubt that this underdog spirit and culture of mutual aid laid the foundation for today’s premium sake market.

However, the very structure that was once necessary for “salvation” is beginning to show a different side now that the market is maturing. Because unconditional “support” continues even for breweries that already possess strong brand power and financial stability, it has become difficult for critical and comparative perspectives to function.

As a result, rather than being custodians of a culture, the media is increasingly resembling fan communities that support specific brands. The very “kindness” that once sustained the industry has now begun to act as a factor that diminishes the diversity of evaluation.

3. The Issue of Proximity Between Breweries and Writers

The primary factor making criticism so difficult to establish in the sake industry is that the physical and psychological distance between the creators and the commentators is simply too close.

Many sake writers, influencers, and specialized media outlets maintain regular, direct contact with brewery owners, occasionally sharing drinks in private settings. This close proximity is actually part of the charm of sake culture. Unlike mass-production industries, the faces of the creators are visible, and their ties to the local community are strong. There is undeniably a certain warmth to it.

At the same time, however, that very intimacy creates a structure that easily compromises the independence of criticism and journalism.

The “Structural Co-dependence” Between Breweries and Media

1. Writers and media outlets embed themselves deeply within the brewery community.

2. Relationships are reinforced through tastings, events, and limited-edition releases.

3. Psychological hesitation and reciprocity come into play, making it easy for critical perspectives to weaken.

4. Writing a harsh evaluation carries the risk of losing access and damaging relationships.

5. As a result, the boundary between PR and criticism becomes increasingly blurred.

In the sake industry, which operates heavily as a regional sector, information circulates within extremely narrow social circles. For instance, if someone writes under their real name that a specific sake’s “profile this year lacks balance,” that evaluation is instantly shared throughout the industry. Consequently, it can impact their standing not only with the brewery in question, but also with related sake retailers and the surrounding community.

For writers, losing access to a brewery is a significant blow. Information on new products, tasting opportunities, and cooperation for interviews—all of these are, in most cases, built entirely on personal trust. Therefore, “not breaking the unspoken harmony” easily becomes an implicit premise. As a result, the focus of the media’s role shifts away from objective criticism or verification and moves firmly toward “conveying the appeal of the creator.”

Of course, that in itself is not an evil. The problem lies in the fact that because this structure is so robust, negative evaluations and comparative criticism become almost entirely impossible to sustain.

Here, the subject of reporting and the object of support are virtually identical, meaning empathy is given priority over criticism. This is the true nature of the unspoken pressure hanging over the sake industry that dictates “one must not write anything bad.”

4. The Mirror of Wine Criticism Culture

This situation in the sake industry stands in stark contrast to the “third-party criticism culture” that the wine industry has built over many years.

The symbolic figure of this culture is Robert Parker, a wine critic who started his career as an attorney, and the existence of publications like The Wine Advocate—which he founded—and the long-established specialized magazine Wine Spectator.

In sake media, sake is frequently discussed alongside its “background”—incorporating the brewery’s philosophy, regionality, and the creator’s story. The distance to the creator is close, and at times, “support” itself becomes the primary role of the media.

On the other hand, wine criticism places a strong emphasis on maintaining a distance from producers. Through blind tastings where labels are concealed, the evaluation is detached from brand images and stories to rigorously verify the execution of the liquid itself. In that realm, the question is not “who made it,” but rather “how high is its quality.”

Furthermore, in the wine world, critics’ scores directly influence market prices. Wines that achieve high scores experience soaring prices, occasionally even becoming targets for investment. In other words, criticism is not merely a collection of personal opinions, but functions as a critical infrastructure that moves the market itself.

Robert Parker in particular placed great importance on maintaining a stance completely independent of producers and distributors, and his evaluations exerted a massive influence on the global market. By placing their trust in this “third-party evaluation,” consumers became willing to pay premium prices for wines from regions they had yet to discover.

However, at the same time, this culture of criticism has also generated significant side effects.

This is because wineries around the world began imitating the “bold, oaky, and fruit-forward style” that Parker rated highly, leading to a homogenization of flavor profiles often referred to as “Parkerization.”

Furthermore, because authority became excessively concentrated in the hands of a select few critics, a phenomenon emerged where prices skyrocketed based solely on numerical scores. It is undeniable that the distinct regional identities and diversity inherent to wine were, in some aspects, crushed by market logic. In short, wine criticism cannot be viewed as a “perfect, ideal model.”

What the sake industry needs to learn is not a simplistic, score-centric approach. Rather, it is the fundamental existence of a “third-party evaluation that maintains a certain distance from the producer.” The challenge now is how to build a channel for genuine criticism—distinct from mere “support”—while successfully avoiding the pitfall of numerical supremacy. The ultimate test facing the sake industry today is striking that precise sense of balance.

5. Why Criticism is Needed Now

“Why go out of our way to imitate wine and bring in a cold culture of criticism? Isn’t the current ‘kind world’ perfectly fine as it is?” Such counterarguments are bound to persist going forward.

In fact, the “culture of support” that the sake industry has built over many years has supported many small-scale breweries and protected local cultures. It is not something that can be simply dismissed. However, there is still a reason why a culture of criticism is becoming increasingly necessary for sake today. That is because the market itself is undergoing a major transformation.

Historically, sake was primarily a daily beverage, with most products consumed for a few thousand yen or less. Today, however, it is shifting toward a premium market where a single 720ml bottle can cost from several thousand to tens of thousands, or sometimes even hundreds of thousands of yen. At this price point, consumer psychology undergoes a massive transformation.

If a bottle costs 1,500 yen, even if it does not quite suit your taste, it can easily be dismissed as a “learning experience.” The creator’s story or a simple desire to offer support can be sufficient motivation to purchase. However, in a world where a single bottle exceeds 15,000 yen, the circumstances are entirely different.

What consumers demand is not just “the passionate dedication of the brewery.” They require the precise execution of the liquid itself, aging potential, consistency across vintages, and a solid technical foundation to justify that price. In other words, a “third-party quality evaluation” is inherently indispensable for the high-end market.

Yet in today’s sake media, almost every sake is discussed favorably. As a result, consumers are left without a baseline for comparison. Driven by the desire to “avoid making a mistake,” they concentrate their purchases on a handful of highly visible brands—such as Juyondai, Aramasa, or Jikon—whose market reputations are already firmly established.

Conversely, this means that breweries producing high-quality sake but lacking recognition are losing the opportunity to rise to prominence based purely on their ability. If a credible culture of criticism existed, it would create a channel where sake is evaluated on “quality” rather than “brand visibility.” This would by no means benefit only the famous brands; it could serve as a vital infrastructure for discovering new talent.

Furthermore, for sake to truly expand into international markets, relying solely on emotion-driven communication has its limits. For foreign consumers who do not share the distinct context or atmosphere inherent to the Japanese language, concepts like “tradition,” “passion,” and “story” alone are not enough to be persuasive. What is required is explaining elements such as flavor profiles, aging capabilities, and technical execution using language that can be shared across borders.

In other words, what sake truly requires right now is not a simple system of “scoring.” It is a “common language of criticism” that can hold its own in the global market.

6. Can a “New Culture of Criticism” Unique to Sake Be Built?

What we should aim for is not a cold world that simply imports the score-centric dogma of wine. Sake possesses its own unique merits—the close proximity to the creators, the deep ties to regional culture, and a sense of community where faces are recognizable. These characteristics are things that should not be lost in the first place.

The problem lies in the fact that “respect” can easily degenerate into a state of “uncritical acceptance.” What is required is for media and criticism to maintain a certain degree of independence, even while preserving deep respect for the creators. In other words, it is about designing a new cultural framework that successfully balances “support” with “critical evaluation.”

To achieve this, at least three paradigm shifts will be necessary.

From “Standom” to a “Culture of Evaluation”

The current sake community often resembles the dynamics of idol fandom or “standom.” A favorite brewery is constantly praised, and any negative opinion is treated as something that disrupts the harmony. While this culture was effective during the initial phase of expanding the community, a culture cannot mature on this dynamic alone.

What is needed is a perspective that separates the “creator’s personality” from the “technical execution of the liquid.” For example, a state where a critique such as, “I respect the brewer, but I feel the pasteurization design for this release has compromised its original freshness,” can exist as a constructive technical discussion, rather than a personal attack.

Criticism should inherently be about “analysis,” not “disliking.”

Evaluating the “Design Philosophy” Rather Than the Score

That being said, simply reducing sake to a 100-point scale like wine carries its own risks. Sake involves multi-layered elements—sake rice, yeast varieties, water profiles, pasteurization methods, kimoto, yamahai, and serving temperature variations. A single score cannot adequately capture that complexity. This is precisely why what sake needs is not “scoring,” but rather the articulation of the “degree of achievement relative to its design philosophy.”

For instance, this could be expressed as: “While the design philosophy articulates a framework where the acidity is highlighted to leverage the natural water profile of the region, the actual liquid presents a prominent sweetness, creating a discrepancy with the intended concept.”

After all, most sake is not a product of mere coincidence; it is a meticulously constructed “designed beverage” that encompasses everything from sake rice, yeast, water, and pasteurization, to aging and temperature profiles. In fact, there are many cases where the brewers themselves clearly articulate the specific flavor profile they aimed to achieve.

This is precisely why what is crucial is not a simplistic impression of whether it “tastes good or bad,” but rather verifying to what extent that concept has been realized within the liquid itself.

Whether the design philosophy aligns with the finished product, or if a discrepancy has emerged between the intent and the actual quality of the sake—inherently, true criticism is the act of deciphering this “consistency between design and result.”

Blind Tasting and the Cultivation of Independent Media

And finally, what is required is changing the very “structure that makes it impossible to write negative reviews.”

Currently, the greatest problem facing sake media lies in the fact that personal relationships and evaluations are too tightly intertwined. To transform this structure, it is necessary to institutionalize blind tastings—where labels are completely concealed—for certain evaluation initiatives.

Creating an environment that evaluates the liquid itself, rather than the brand name or the prominence of the brewer. This will ultimately lead to giving even unrecognized breweries a fair opportunity.

At the same time, the presence of “independent sake media” that do not rely solely on advertising or close relationships with breweries is indispensable. The model could take various forms, such as subscription fees, foundation-based operations, or reader community support. However, at the very least, true journalism cannot exist without distancing oneself from a structure where “criticizing means losing access.”

What sake needs is not to discard its “gentleness.” Rather, for a market that can no longer be sustained by gentleness alone, it is about acquiring the “language of evaluation” necessary to progress to the next stage of maturity.

Conclusion: To criticize because we love.

The “culture of support” in the sake world was a crucial weapon for surviving a long period of decline. That warmth sustained many small breweries and preserved the local sake culture for the modern era. Its achievements cannot be overstated.

However, sake is now entering a new phase. In order to evolve beyond a simple local traditional industry or a hobbyist realm for a select group of enthusiasts, and to mature into a global premium culinary culture, the era sustained by “gentleness alone” must come to an end.

What is required is to retain respect for the creators while simultaneously possessing the “courage to evaluate.” True affection is not about simply continuing to validate everything. It must also mean, at times, presenting harsh realities for the sake of the other party’s growth.

We should offer the highest praise for brilliant challenges. At the same time, we must distinctly distance ourselves from overestimations that lack actual quality or from marketing that depends solely on narrative.

Only when such a healthy sense of tension exists will sake breweries move toward higher levels of technological innovation, and will consumers, in turn, be able to trust their own palates as they encounter new sakes.

Culture cannot mature in a world where everything ends with “it’s all good.” Having the magnanimity to accept criticism that may be hard to swallow, and making both “support” and “criticism” coexist—that is precisely what represents the final step for the culture of sake to become truly independent.