Despite the efforts of residents and the actions taken by public authorities, the courts, families, and teams of psychologists, sociologists, and other experts on the social phenomenon of “botellón” (street drinking), every weekend—for far too many years now—thousands of young people take over the night and transform various urban spaces into stages for their endless debauchery. Following the established news narrative about the aftermath of this festive ritual, the reports always use the same terms: filth and noise, disruption of public order, hospitalizations for alcohol poisoning, detection of drugs, a wave of robberies, sexual abuse of intoxicated minors…

Beyond highlighting a problem of civic order, public health, or educational permissiveness, what these events reveal is the moral apathy of generations lacking the appropriate worldview to navigate their leisure activities. This—the issue of leisure time—is not a matter of insufficient importance to warrant academic reflection and, at the same time, cannot be resolved with the intellectual accessibility afforded by common sense. This was the perspective from which, several decades ago, the philosopher José Luis López Aranguren (1909-1996) addressed the issue of recreation.

In his ongoing dialogue with the historical circumstances of his time, this prolific author from Ávila (winner of the Prince of Asturias Award for Communication and Humanities in recognition of his lifetime achievements encompassing a multitude of historical, philosophical, literary, religious, and cultural expressions) championed the intellectual importance of this theme. In his Ethics  —a foundational work for several generations of scholars, representing at the time an original Spanish contribution to this philosophical discipline—he grounded the morality of life in the realization of the inner self that each person possesses, so that, when one achieves what one is meant to be, one attains self-perfection and the essence of happiness.

Following in the footsteps of Ortega y Gasset, but without losing the highly personal style of thinking that distinguished Aranguren, he insisted that, in addition to being occupation and activity, our existence also has a necessary component of recreation. Alongside “laborious occupation,” we engage in “pleasurable occupation,” making human occupation twofold. Considering its Latin etymology, the word “diversion” means “deviation,” in this case, abandoning the path of laborious occupation. Thus considered, although distraction is sought for its own sake, it does not constitute the end of life, but rather a fundamental dimension of it, which is why every culture has an escapist aspect.

However, this is not ethically neutral: it always deserves moral evaluation. It’s not the same to have fun one way as another. If fun evades what is essential and avoids responsibilities, it becomes aversion, a turning away from the good (which is—the good—what should be done from a moral perspective). If, on the other hand, it serves as rest to then continue the task with renewed energy, it is good. This last point does not imply—a very common attitude nowadays—that the mere fulfillment of work authorizes engaging in any kind of leisure or acting in any way one pleases.

According to this perspective on entertainment championed by Aranguren, inappropriate forms of entertainment – ​​such as “botellón” – not only hinder one’s own full development, but also that of those affected in one way or another: in civic order, public health, property, freedom, dignity…

Special mention in this chapter of those affected deserves the domestic drama of every weekend for many parents who, in some cases, do not always know what their children do in their free time; in others, they do not want to see it; and, in almost all circumstances, they feel powerless in the face of a situation that overwhelms them, because it is the fruit of a disoriented society in which, by confusing the bottom with the top, perhaps the occasion in which one hears: ‘They all killed her, and she died alone’ is not far off.

Pedro Paricio. Give me three minutes