Faith and Flavour: The Journey of the Whisky Minister

Having completed the Online Diploma in Single Malt Whisky in 2021, Robert Abad asked to interview Vic Cameron as part of his work as a writer.

Vic Cameron never set out to become known as "The Whisky Minister". In fact, for much of his early life, he avoided whisky altogether. Yet over the years, the spirit has become inseparable from his identity; woven through his decades at Diageo, his work as a consultant and educator and his calling in the church.

Today, Vic is regarded as one of whisky’s most engaging voices, a man who sees the dram not just as a drink, but as a source of memory, connection and meaning. His journey is one of unlikely beginnings, transformative sips and the conviction that whisky, at its best, is always about people.

Ironically, his relationship with whisky began with avoidance. “I grew up around it,” he admits. “There was always drinking going on in the family, but I didn’t like what I saw, or what I thought it tasted like.” For years he stayed away, unimpressed by the amber liquid that seemed to dominate Scottish life. That changed at 29, while training as a manager at Diageo.

During his warehousing rotation, a supervisor took him for what was then called a “walk around the warehouse.” Translation: time for a dram. The manager drew a sample from a 30-year-old sherry cask, poured two glasses and handed one to Vic. He protested “I don’t drink whisky” but the reply was firm: “If you’re going to be a distillery manager, you’ve got to drink whisky.” That first sip was transformative. “It was absolutely stunning,” he recalls. “Smooth, rich, unlike anything I thought whisky was. From then on, I was hooked.”

From there, whisky became a way of marking milestones. One of the most poignant was a climb up Benrinnes with his father. Vic carried a 20cl bottle of Caol Ila 18 to the summit, where the two shared a dram. “My dad had never climbed a hill before,” he says. “Looking back, I didn’t know he was already beginning the illness that would eventually take him. But I’ve got a photo of him at the top, holding the bottle and his walking stick. I still have that stick today. That memory and what that whisky represents is priceless.”

Another defining moment came when he left Diageo after 23 years. Colleagues presented him with a bottle of Talisker 25. Instead of tucking it away, Vic opened it that same evening with his wife, children and granddaughter. “Normally it would have gone straight to the top shelf, but whisky is about sharing. That bottle became part of a family memory, not just something to look at.” Even today, a little remains in the bottle, carefully kept out of the sun as a reminder.

This philosophy, whisky as a social bond, defines Vic's approach. “I very seldom drink alone,” he says. “It’s about people, about moments. Even when my son was in Australia, we’d watch football together on FaceTime. He’d raise a glass at 5:30 in the morning, me at 8:00 at night and in that moment we were together.”

That sense of togetherness carried him into an unexpected next chapter. After decades at Diageo, he entered the ministry. Yet rather than leaving whisky behind, he found a way to balance both callings. “For a time, I was running a church while still working at Diageo. There was no salary in the church and I had a family to support. Eventually, I started my own consultancy. Smaller distilleries often need specialists now and again and with my background in labs, cereals and process support, I could help. It grew from there.”

His reputation spread, and soon teaching became his passion, particularly through the Edinburgh Whisky Academy, which over the years has become a global hub for whisky education. “I love people, and I love teaching. What better subject than whisky? You say you’re Scottish, and suddenly you’re the most popular person in the room. And if you look a little like Sean Connery, it helps!”

Vic delights in walking students through warehouses, pausing over lunch to swap stories, or answering questions over coffee. When the Academy launched its online Diploma, he worried it might lack the same spark. The solution was simple: the Drop-in Dram. Students log in from around the world with a whisky of their choice, and the conversation flows. “We might talk about the course, or we might just talk about life,” Vic says. “Some of those sessions have been incredible. I finish them and think, ‘I got paid for that?’ It’s brilliant.”

Inevitably, conversations with Vic turn to whisky’s place in the wider world of spirits. Gin, rum, vodka, they all have their histories, yet Scotch retains a mystique. “Every culture has a spirit,” he says. “What made Scotch global wasn’t necessarily quality, it was timing, the British Empire and Scottish entrepreneurial drive. But there’s also something the world just loves about Scotland: the scenery, the tartan, the bagpipes, the whisky. It all hangs together.”

He chuckles when recalling being interviewed by Time magazine during the height of Japanese whisky’s acclaim. “They asked if Japanese whisky was better than Scotch. I said no. They asked if I’d even tried Japanese whisky. I said no. Why did I think Scotch was better? ‘Because I’m biased.’ I’m Scottish, I live in Speyside, I’ve been a distillery manager. Of course I think it’s the best.”

So what does whisky mean to him today, after three decades in the industry? “It’s been my career, my livelihood, my passion. It’s taken me to China, Burma, Singapore. It’s introduced me to incredible people I’d never have met otherwise. I can’t retire from it, I love it too much. My faith and family come first, but after that, whisky has been the most important part of my life.”

For Vic, Scotch is both personal and national. “We’re a wee country, only six million people, but we make something that the whole world knows and loves. Caol Ila 18, Dalmore 25, these aren’t just spirits. They’re Scotland in a bottle. And I feel privileged to have played a part in that story.”

Whisky may be, in his words, a “silly little drink,” but in the same breath he insists it is also much more. It is memory, family, heritage and the chance to share a moment with someone across the table or across the world.

“Whisky isn’t everything,” he says with a smile. “But it’s given me everything.”