Karine Vann
For many villagers across Armenia, karases—the egg-shaped
terracotta jugs used for winemaking in the region—aren’t worth the
basement space they occupy. Despite the fact that in recent years, they
have become a symbol of ancient civilization in the region and a
testament to Armenia’s viticultural significance (giving it an edge over
its friendly rival, Georgia), karases as an instrument have fallen farther and farther into a well of obscurity.
Today, the word is more likely to reference a brand
than an ancient vessel. And where culture and commerce meet, there are
sure to be complications—even, paradoxically, in the very industry karases exist to serve.
Up to that point, the alcohol industry in Armenia had mimicked what
it was in Soviet years, where Armenia had been designated as the
brandy-producing arm of the U.S.S.R. Tierras de Armenia had begun its
operations with that in mind, growing grapes for the purpose of making
cognac. But upon witnessing the high caliber of grapes they were
growing, they quickly shifted to winemaking. After all, just one great
wine could transform the market.
“We started our work in Armenian winemaking when practically no good
quality wines were produced in the country,” says Juliana Del Aguila,
Eurnekian’s niece and Director of Karas’ Operations, “No one really knew
about quality winemaking (even being the first country in the world
where wine was produced more than 6,000 years ago), no one even knew
what the word ‘karas’ meant!”
The romantic story about Armenia as the birthplace of wine plays a
big role in Karas Wines’ marketing—as their copywriter for a brief
period in 2017, I would know. It is, however, not history, but modernity
that forms the key ingredient to their success. They utilize
contemporary viticultural expertise and modern technology in all stages
of their process, and their wines are fermented in stainless steel vats,
not the old, clay karas, as their name suggests. The company’s relationship to the ancient vessel is purely an abstract one.
Del Aguila explains that the reference to was never meant to be
literal. “With the name ‘Karas,’ we aimed to revive this tradition and
tell about winemaking and how it started, in the land that we love and
care for and that has so much story to tell to the world,” she says, “We
have worked a lot under this brand and name that represents us and
Armenia.”
Tierras de Armenia filed a trademark with the Intellectual Property
Agency (IPA) on the word “Karas,” which was granted to them on Sept. 17,
2011, and officially registered on June 6, 2012, under the serial
number 18470.
Around the same time Karas Wines was getting on its feet, another
winery was operating in a similar vein, founded by Zorik Gharibian, an
Armenian diasporan who had built his former success in the Italian
fashion industry. Always a wine lover, Gharibian and his wife, Yeraz
Thomassian, had dreamt for many years of opening their own winery. Up
until that point, they had been working in Armenia through the fashion
industry, bringing manufacturing to the region. But when news of the
Areni-1 cave spread, they decided to pursue that dream in Armenia. Thus
began Zorah Wines.
From the start, it was a small, very niche operation. And though the
Gharibians spared no expense in securing modern equipment for their
production, the ancient vessel, karas, also plays an important
role. Gharibian says that after the Areni-1 cave discovery, he saw an
opportunity to bring back wine heritage in Armenia in what he considered
the most authentic way possible: through the karas. And he has gone to painstaking efforts to do so, a process which was detailed in my investigation for Smithsonian.com a year ago.
By utilizing Armenia’s clay terracotta, Gharibian was also
capitalizing on a more global trend in the wine community: the comeback
of amphora-made wines. And in this pursuit he has been quite successful.
Zorah’s first vintage was released in 2012, named “Karasì,” or “of the karas,” referencing the fact that the wine was aged in Armenian amphorae. Within months, it had made Bloomberg’s list of top ten wines.
But Gharibian started noticing some of the peculiarities associated
with bringing Armenia’s cultural heritage into the modern market place
in 2011, when he attempted to file a trademark with the IPA on the word
“Karasì,” but was rejected.
“They [the IPA] rejected us because one, they said the word “Karasì”
could confuse the consumer into thinking that the wines were aged in karas, and two, it was a common word,” explains Thomassian, “We went back to them saying that our wines were aged in karas
and that is exactly why we were naming the wine ‘Karasì.’” Shortly
afterwards, the IPA returned to them with a non-binding agreement.
Six months later, when the “Karas” trademark was given to Karas Wines
(“—no questions asked!”), the Gharibians reapplied for a different
trademark in Oct. 2011. This time, it included the entire text on their
bottle’s label: “Զ Karasì Zorah.” On March 12, 2012, this title was
registered and authorized by the IPA.
***
Confusion over the different manifestations of the word “karas” in Armenia’s tiny wine market has inevitably ensued. Speaking to Hetq.am
last February, Del Aguila cited an instance in which she ordered Karas
at a restaurant and was offered Zorah’s Karasi instead. She says that,
even though the word “karas” is being used on his wine’s label
as a way to designate the mode of production, she worries that the
branding is too confusing.
Part of the confusion may stem from the fact that the two brands do
not have an equal presence in Armenia’s local market. Being far more
affordable (a bottle of Karas Wines’ Dry Red runs for around $8 or $9
USD), brand awareness of Karas is as a result much higher in Armenia.
For Zorah Wines, creating karas-made wines has come at a
price—and that price is over $30. The Gharibians admit their Karasí was
never really intended for a local market. Curiously enough, a company
which does not employ the use of karas in its production [Karas Wines] has more weight to the word—simply because people can afford it.
Del Aguila says that whatever the reason, consumers and sales people
are simply not differentiating the two. She cited an example when
several popular supermarkets, SAS and Nor Zovq, featured incorrectly
labelled the wines in their showrooms, lumping in Zorah’s products under
the Karas label. Zorah’s wines “Voski,” and “Yeraz,” for example, both
do not have the word “karas” on their label, but were labeled as
“Karas Zorah Voski” and “Karas Zorah Yeraz.” Whether this is a result of
negligence on the supermarket’s part or actual trademark infringement,
however, is difficult to ascertain.
In 2017, Tierras de Armenia went so far as to hire a firm called
Alpha Plus Consulting to measure the extent of the confusion. In a study
conducted by the company, 28 percent of consumers thought both
trademarks were owned by the same producer. And in sales, that number
was even worse. Forty percent of sales people thought that the wines
were owned by the same producer.
Del Aguila says she had initially hoped the two companies might
settle the matter privately between them, but it wasn’t long before
things got ugly. In May 2016, Karas Wines filed its first lawsuit
against Zorah Wines for trademark infringement.
***
It was a bitter battle, that unfolded publicly across local and international media. Until now, Gharibian maintains that “karas”
is a word which belongs to all Armenian winemakers. He and Thomassian
say that, even if they had been granted the trademark on the word, they
would not prohibit other companies from using it (and in fact, another
winery in Armenia has recently come out with a Karasí line of their own,
a fact which Gharibian lauds), and they believe Karas Wines’ actions
are an effort to “monopolize” a piece of Armenia’s shared cultural
heritage.
In a scathing open letter
to Eurnekian, published last January, Gharibian wrote that creating
such strict restrictions around the world posed a threat to Armenia’s
future winemakers, who “will have to stand on international and domestic
platforms and talk of Armenia’s 6,000 year winemaking history using
words such as Amphorae, Qvevri or Thala and explain that our endemic
word “karas” was sold to the highest bidder, a powerful corporation, for personal promotion and brand usage.”
Karas Wines recently won its second case against Zorah, delivered
last February in Armenia’s Court of Appeals. But while the victory went
to Karas, Del Aguila says her team has lost a lot in the process.
Leading up to the verdict, Gharibian acquired a lot of grass roots
support. His story is easy to get behind—especially given that
Eurnekian’s team has claimed legal ownership over a word it has little
practical relationship to. Even Georgians have chimed in to voice their
condemnation.
Del Aguila complains that the press coverage, which tends to favor
the “little guy” (in this case, Gharibian, whose production and overall
entrepreneurial reach in Armenia pales in comparison to Eurnekian’s),
has been slanted and unfair. “It was never in our agenda to monopolize,”
she told the Weekly. “The core of this project is to create
opportunities, Armenia has a lot to give and fortunately, a lot of new
wineries have joined our path and are making great Armenian wines… And
this is not only damaging our prestigious brand, but also the more than
500 families that are part of this amazing project.”
“Consumers should know exactly what products they are buying,” she
told Hetq in a rare interview, “I believe Karasí Zorah is fantastic
wine, but I also do not want it to be confused with Karas.”
Gharibian, on the other hand, says the debate will not end here. After the verdict was delivered in February, he told reporters
that he plans to take the matter to Armenia’s Court of Cassation, and
if all else fails, to international courts, where is convinced he would
win. “I’m ready to finish this fight,” Gharibian told Hetq last
December, “It’s a matter of principle for me.”
"The Armenian Weekly," March 23, 2018
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