Dwight Smith asked that same question, decades before I was born, in a completely different context. Be that as it may, his passion for what he loved in the face of American Bigness seemed more appropriate than ever. Draining the last of the beer, it began to sink in that as with anything else, Freemasonry's currents are defined by many of the same factors that drive the other things that are a part of our everyday lives. As I finished the last of the beer, I cleaned the glass and returned to the fridge. After much deliberation a Dogfish Head Palo Santo Marron was selected and poured, further fueling the thoughts that I could not seem to shake. I realized that at the end of the day, as Andrew Hammer states in Observing the Craft, there is a split in Masonry between those who understand what Masonry can be, and those who would not even give such ideas a second thought.
Apart from the obvious ties between fine beverages and a quality festive board, the actual similarities between these two worlds are striking, even to a sober mind. The most poignant comparison deals with matters of scale. When small software companies are bought by online giants, we simply congratulate them on making money, a job well done. With beer it is different. With beer there is a tie between the community and the brewery. True beer lovers loathe macro-breweries because they stand against everything beer should be about. From the earliest days, beer was about community, brewed and drank locally by people you knew. Following prohibition (although to be fair, some lodges are to this day dealing with that legacy), beer was consolidated into several large scale companies that saw beer not as an art that should be carefully cultivated, but as a commodity. The same can be said of masonry in those same years, peaking in power after the Second World War. This is a story familiar to all Masons, and is hardly worth repeating here. It is, however, worth noting that these were concurrent events. This speaks volumes towards the quality of the culture. Bigger was simply seen as better – a commodity, not a craft. Scale was more important than observing arts that reach back into time farther than we have records to prove. Thus were both Masonry and beer dumbed down for the masses, with profit, image, and most importantly growth, being the motivation that drove them forward. But how does one achieve this sort of scale? Magic – of the smoke and mirror variety. While big brewers were distracting people with clever ads, Freemasonry was distracting its membership with countless other organizations that leeched membership away from lodges. Oddly enough, in both cases neither the ads nor the organizations said anything about the product they depended upon at the end of the day.
The Palo Santo Marron went down far too easily, I felt almost guilty for not savoring it longer. And even though it may be nearly fifteen dollars for a four pack, it seems worth every penny. You get what you pay for. Here is a beer that uses only the best of ingredients, and is then aged in a specially constructed massive tank made of Paraguayan wood. When you drink it, you can appreciate the care and dedication that went into it. Price doesn't really matter at that point. And yet, dues have remained artificially low for decades. Why is that? No one bats an eye when a can of Natural Ice gets dumped. But I digress, this is about the ingredients. You only get out of something what you put into it. You only get a perfect building stone if you pick the right one from the quarry. And yet, large breweries insist on using adjuncts such as corn and rice. These ingredients only serve to dull the true character of a fine brew. And while this may have its place in certain recipes, the overuse of them on a regular basis is a bad habit. You increase you profitability, and by dulling the taste make it more accessible to the masses. I won't insult anyone's intelligence by dwelling too long on the obvious comparison of the folly of one day degrees and making the Craft open to any man that wants join.
As I switch gears and go for a Flying Dog Road Dog Porter, looking at Hunter S Thompson's quote, "Good people drink good beer" that graces every bottle, I'm reminded of a quote from Pete Brown, "There seems to be this unwritten rule in a lot of human behavior, the 80-20 rule: in the case of beer, I reckon about 80% of people are perfectly happy drinking the same old shit every day of their lives, and would be scared if a new, strange, different-tasting brand appeared in front of them. These people will always drink bland mainstream beers because they’re not drinking to appreciate the taste; they’re drinking purely for physical refreshment and to get a bit of a buzz going." It may seem obvious, but he's absolutely correct. Proportionately, the same number of people are joining the Craft as before. The disturbing thing is that you need to further break down the number, you have to break it down a second time inside the Craft to really get a good look at the state Masonry is in. A better number is five, five percent. That's the market share for craft breweries. The rest is domestic macro lagers and a few imports. But, as is always the case, it's that five percent that are truly the standouts among their peers. And while greatness is not exclusively limited to craft brews or Masons, it truly is the R&D lab for the world around it.
The good news is that while the tide of Bigness may be looking to sweep everything from its path, neither Freemasonry, nor craft brews are going anywhere. It truly is a Renaissance. Out of the ashes of decades of neglect a handful of breweries and lodges are starting to go back to the way things were intended to be. Craft beer has been steadily increasing while corporate lagers are on the decline. Some grand lodges issue edicts forcing their bland old brews on lodges, while A-B Inbev uses their checkbook to keep the competition down. But it doesn't matter. In the end, neither can drive everyone under who doesn't see things the same way they do. The ultimate sovereignty lies with the people making the choices, and as long as the truly devoted, the driven, the educated choose which beers they love and know that with both the mysteries of Masonry and Brewing, there is a bit of the true magic that can only be found in a select number of places, there will always be a home for the esoteric. Moreover, the Macros in both worlds have become their own worst enemies. By nearly eliminating tradition all together, they have forced a new generation to rediscover that which was nearly lost forever. This new generation has the ability, both in Masonry and in brewing, too not only look back to European origins, but to look forward with new interpretations and ingredients while staying true to the principles that have always guided both; community, craftsmanship, and the pursuit of perfection for the good of all. Sam Calagione of Dogfish head, while the aforementioned Goose Island was selling out, was actually scaling back his own production. Why? To focus on the quality, not the quantity.
So while my beers had been getting darker, my mood has been getting lighter. I'm ending the night with a Sam Adams Latitute 48 IPA. In true Janusian fashion, Jim Koch of Boston Beer looked back to the great men of the 18th Century, the age of Enlightenment, for his inspiration. Merging this tradition with a ceaseless quest for improvement and forward looking attitude, his beers are spoken of with the respect they deserve. This beer in my hand an English style nearly lost, but revived and then improved on using a new range of ingredients that were not even known to exist when the first batches were brewed in centuries past. And when someone worthy is looking for the experience they keenly know they desire, that has been missing from their life, I think we all know what they will reach for.
To all of you, a fraternal, "cheers."
Ryan Scott Bonnett
Brewer Freemason
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