The View Through My Glass Bottom

Just whose side am I on?

I'm sure you know it's a familiar and well-trodden path – from enthusiastic customer to consumerist campaigner to industry professional – though my career résumé (and substantial ego) might try to claim I've taken it further than many. And it should also be quite obvious that the unifying driving force throughout this journey, certainly for most of us who've made the trip, is a shared passion for the product at its heart.

It had therefore never previously crossed my mind that the career move from one side of the bar to the other might necessitate a fundamental switch of allegiance. But my return to Liverpool in March – for the welcome revival of SIBA's BeerX – included a couple of 'lowlights', which highlighted the possibility of conflict across the broad spectrum of those who identify as beer champions.

There was, I admit, a thread of logic in the opening words of the chairman of one of the most grown-up (and biggest) offspring of the microbrewery revolution, when he spoke during the trade organisation's AGM. In other manufacturing fields, he argued, the provenance of local and artisan production commands a price premium. True enough, but he then postulated that the challenge for our industry was to secure the same profit-boosting outcome; which essentially meant let's find a way to increase the price per pint paid by the punters who are our biggest fans. Should I agree with that, I wondered.

A few hours later I was faced with evidence, in a trendy dockside craft beer bar, that it's actually already happening. I guess you're aware that in such places it's not about pints, but 'schooners', and I was expecting to pay at least the standard pub price for just two-thirds of the traditional imperial measure. But I was totally unprepared and gobsmacked to discover that the cheapest draught on offer – an unfiltered and unfined keg pale ale – was being retailed at £5.60. £8.40 a pint.

If the majority of you aren't surprised by this – or even endorse it – then perhaps I really have been living a sheltered life and am now totally outof-touch with the modern market. The bar was certainly not short of customers, and really did seem to have become a hip destination for its target audience.

Except that for me any trip to Liverpool is incomplete without a pilgrimage to one of the greatest pubs in the country. And in the Roscoe Head that lunchtime I'd paid well under £4 for a beautifully kept pint of cask-conditioned bitter. Which is what leads me to these musings about a potential rift within the beer-loving community.

It used to be my job to strive for and emphasise unity across the British beer and pub industries, so as to strengthen and consolidate our political lobbying power – and that, I fear, might be what is now being lost. Furthermore, the mission to build and demonstrate a commonality of interest embraced CAMRA and consumer values too. Do I have to accept that is no longer a realistic agenda?

I hesitate to point a finger at the elitist image propagated these days by the craft sector, but it's the only explanation I can suggest for the aspirational views and pricing described above. A depressing conclusion maybe, but one that was reinforced recently by my latest attendance at a SIBA beer competition. As always, I was honoured to be invited, and especially so when asked to be a lead judge for the newly introduced judging procedure – which worked very well indeed. But I was far less impressed with the 86-page Beer Judge Certification Program we were recommended to consult, containing extensively detailed guidelines for every beer style you could possibly think of (and many you couldn't).

The clue is in the spelling: it's an American publication (although not without at least one British beer writer's input) and as such I really do believe it fails to grasp the foundations of our indigenous beer and pub culture. It turns beer-drinking into a snobby hobby, rather than an integral part of our way of life.

This is essentially a 'divorce' from any aspect of the trade that might be defined and consequently derided as commodity rather than craft. And that includes the traditional public house, its core of traditional customers, and the everyday traditional beers most of them drink as an accompaniment to – rather than the attention-demanding focus of – their social and leisure time.

For me – and for the friends I was drinking with (and discussing this with) last night – Great British Pubs and Great British Beer are inextricably connected, and ultimately mutually dependent.

And I hope that leaves no doubt about which side I'm on.

Julian Grocock