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This is a new one for me.

For close to two decades now I’ve spoken daily about beer. Craft beer. Indie beer. Whatever label the conversation called for. Since I was 21, beer has been the foundation on which I’ve built my life. That’s a lofty statement and one that might carry a few raised eyebrows. Fair enough.

But it’s true.

This is the first time I’ve really sat down to put into words what this industry has meant to me and why, in some of the toughest conditions we’ve ever faced, I chose to step into the role of Chair of the Independent Brewers Association.

I’m writing this sitting in a country pub with a Wolf of the Willows XPA in hand, shout out Scotty and Renae McKinnon. There’s a certain comfort in this experience for me. A familiarity and a reminder of why this matters.   When I moved house Scotty let me use the industrial bins and trolleys from Wolf,  and so its a true connection that I’ve forged through indie beer and a reminder that for me, community is what it is all about.

Speaking of houses, beer has literally helped me buy one. It’s helped me get married. It’s helping me raise two beautiful  kids. Yes, I did the work. But this industry gave me the opportunity. It gave me purpose. It gave me community. It gave me a life.

It would be remiss of me not to acknowledge Scott Brandon, the founder of Bright Brewery, where I’ve worked for the past seven years. He probably won’t love the mention, but he deserves it. A genuine pioneer of indie beer and someone who, through this industry, has created opportunity and built an incredible life not just for himself, but for so many of us around him.

He’s the best of what this industry can be. And I know across the country, plenty of people reading this will have their own version of Scott. Their own person who took a chance, opened a door, backed them in. That’s what indie beer does. It creates opportunity. It creates lives.

Indie beer has allowed people like me to travel the world, build brands, create job opportunities, sponsor local clubs, help support communities and be a part of teams that make something that people genuinely love. For all the talk of margins and tax and logistics, we sometimes forget that this industry is built on joy. On connection. On bringing people together.

So when people ask me why I took on the Chair role, especially now, my answer is simple.

Gratitude. And responsibility.

Gratitude for what this industry has given me. Responsibility to protect it and help create the same opportunities for others.

Since the start of 2025, I’ve sat in a seat that often feels bigger than me. Not just because of the title, but because of the people who came before. Jamie Cook, Rich Adamson, Rich Watkins, Callum Reeves and others have all carried this mantle. That carries weight.

Imposter syndrome is real. Anyone who says otherwise is lying.

But here’s the thing. Leadership in our industry has never been about ego. It’s been about stewardship. About taking something built by many hands and making sure you hand it forward stronger than you received it.

That is what this role means to me. This is why I feel so lucky to have it.

The second question I get asked, and I get it often, is what is the IBA actually doing?

It’s a fair question. When excise keeps rising. When costs keep climbing. When margins are squeezed and consolidation accelerates, it can feel like we are standing in the surf getting hit by wave after wave.

But perspective matters.

Not that long ago the excise rebate for independent brewers was capped at $30,000. Today it is $400,000. That is not theoretical. That is not symbolic. That is real money sitting in P and Ls across the country. For many breweries, that difference is survival. 

That outcome did not happen by accident. It happened because independent brewers stood together, funded representation and kept turning up in Canberra and in state capitals, even when it felt like no one was really listening yet.

Is the work finished? Not even close.

But to suggest the IBA has not shifted the dial ignores the structural change that has already occurred and excise is only one part of the story. Federal engagement, state level advocacy, market access conversations, industry data, media representation. Not to mention all  of the other small benefits the IBA has delivered, be it a connection to the right person to help solve your problem, a dedicated resource or an industry event.  None of it glamorous. All of it necessary.

The IBA exists so that when government makes decisions about alcohol policy, taxation, small business, manufacturing or container deposit schemes, independent brewers are in the room. Not outside it.

Without collective representation, we are just individual businesses shouting into the wind.

And If there is one thing that I’ve learned while being a Board member at the IBA – its that we are in so many different conversations at so many levels it sometimes makes my head spin.   Whether it’s the IBA demanding to be heard, or a stakeholder approaching us with an idea…. I like to joke with Sabrina that we have a hundred beach balls in the air at any one time.

I’ve heard people ask why wine seems to navigate the political system more effectively. The answer is not luck. It is organisation. The wine sector unified early – back in the 70s. It invested in advocacy. It built relationships. It spoke with one voice. And over time, that voice carried weight.

There is a lesson in that.

There is power in numbers. It’s a phrase I’ve used for years because it is simple and true. Alone, each of us is a small business fighting our own fight. Together, we represent an industry that contributes over $3 billion in economic activity, supports regional tourism and employs thousands of Australians.

When we speak collectively, we are heard differently.

Times have been hard. For some they are still very hard. Margins are tight. Consumer behaviour has shifted. Input costs have not softened. The operating environment is unforgiving. No one in this industry needs a lecture on that. We’re all living it.

But there are cracks of light. In the most recent federal election cycle we saw movement that would have been dismissed outright just a few years ago. Was it enough? No. But progress rarely arrives in one clean sweep. It comes in increments built on persistence. And persistence requires structure. It requires an association that can hold the line when individual businesses are too busy just keeping the doors open.

Let’s be honest about one thing. The IBA is not some abstract entity. It is a professional workforce funded and driven by members. It is governed by people who run breweries, who face the same pressures and who feel the same frustration and who lean in to work together when times are hard, rather than putting their head down and hoping someone else will affect the change they want to see.

The IBA cannot fight every battle at once. We want to, and we know what they are, but we do not have the scale for that yet. Instead we can focus on the issues that create the greatest collective impact. And we can do that with consistency and credibility.

Membership is not symbolic. It is practical. It funds representation. It funds advocacy. It funds the ability to sit across the table from decision makers and be taken seriously, which sounds simple, but takes years of consistent work to build.

If this industry has given you opportunity, community or even just a sense of belonging, then backing the body that protects it is not charity. It is stewardship.

This piece isn’t meant to be polished. It’s a reflection. A reminder to myself as much as anyone else.

I love beer. That part is obvious. But more than that, I love this industry. I love what it has built for me and for so many others. I love the fact that in regional towns and inner-city suburbs alike, independent breweries have become anchors of community.

If we want that to continue, we have to act like custodians, not passengers.

If you are not a member, consider becoming one.

If you are a member, talk about why. Encourage others. Show up.

There has never been a more important time to stand together.

Not because it sounds good. Not because it is easy.

But because when we’ve done it properly before, it has worked. And we can do it again.

Evin Craney
Board Chair
Independent Brewers Association