Opinion: Diageo’s Additive Tequila Scandal Is a Symptom of a Bigger Industry Lie
- The Epicurer
- 3 jun
- 3 Min. de lectura
When Diageo acquired Casamigos and Don Julio, it wasn’t just buying tequila brands—it was buying credibility in an increasingly discerning premium spirits market. But with the recent class-action lawsuit alleging that both brands deceptively market their tequilas as “100% agave” while using additives and possibly non-agave alcohols, that credibility is now in serious jeopardy.
Diageo has denied any wrongdoing, standing behind its certifications and the authority of the Consejo Regulador del Tequila (CRT). But here's the problem: consumers no longer trust labels alone, and they certainly don’t trust regulatory bodies that appear more invested in protecting industry interests than consumer rights. The heart of this issue isn’t just whether Don Julio or Casamigos use additives—although that matters—it’s the broader erosion of authenticity in the premium tequila space. “100% agave” should mean exactly that: a spirit derived entirely from Blue Weber agave, without shortcuts, flavoring agents, or manipulation. Unfortunately, a loophole in Mexican regulations allows up to 1% by volume of undisclosed additives—even in tequilas labeled “100% agave.” This is where the problem lies.
For a brand like Casamigos, which markets itself as smooth, clean, and worth a $50+ price tag, any hint of artificial enhancement cuts directly against its image. Consumers who choose these bottles do so not only for the flavor but also for the perception of purity and tradition. When that trust is broken—even by implication—it damages the entire category.
And let’s not pretend this lawsuit is coming out of nowhere. For years, industry insiders and tequila purists have whispered about the widespread use of additives—glycerin for mouthfeel, caramel for color, and artificial flavors to simulate aging or richness. What’s new is that consumers are finally paying attention, asking harder questions, and demanding better answers.

What’s particularly galling in Diageo’s case is its reliance on regulatory credentials as a shield. The CRT’s credibility is being openly challenged in this lawsuit, with claims of corruption and complicity. Whether or not these allegations hold up in court, they resonate because they reflect a known truth: regulations are only as good as their enforcement, and enforcement in the tequila world has long been opaque at best.
The CRT even went so far as to sue the Additive-Free Alliance, an independent group that provides transparency into additive-free tequila brands. Instead of embracing efforts to clean up the industry, the CRT appears more focused on controlling the narrative—further confirming that consumer trust must be earned through action, not authority.
What Diageo and others need to realize is that today’s drinkers aren’t satisfied with marketing spin. They want transparency. They want integrity. And increasingly, they’re gravitating toward smaller producers who voluntarily disclose production methods and reject additives—not because they’re required to, but because it’s the right thing to do.
The tequila world is at a crossroads. The additive controversy is more than a scandal—it’s an opportunity. For Diageo, for regulators, and for the entire industry, now is the time to decide: Do you stand for tradition and truth, or for profit and pretense?
And if major players like Diageo are skirting transparency while hiding behind weak regulatory frameworks, shouldn’t they be forced to comply with the spirit of the law—not just the letter? That’s the real issue here. It’s not just about tequila. It’s about how often powerful companies shape the rules in their favor while consumers are left in the dark.
This lawsuit is a microcosm of a much larger problem: the corrosive role of corporate lobbying, especially in the United States, where business interests often outrank public health, truth in labeling, and basic consumer protection. When regulators are influenced more by industry pressure than by the people they’re meant to protect, we all lose—whether we’re drinking tequila or just expecting honesty in the marketplace.
So the question becomes: How long will we allow profit to take precedence over principle? Until lawmakers and regulators have the courage to put consumers first—and companies are held accountable for misleading practices—scandals like this one won’t just continue. They’ll become the norm. And that should leave a bitter taste in everyone’s mouth.