Every December, the conversation resurfaces in gatherings and after-dinner conversations: should we spend money on Christmas lights, or is it an unnecessary expense? Figures are thrown around—economic cost, commercial return, energy consumption—and, almost always, the debate ends there. But this way of thinking reveals much more about how we view life than about the lights themselves. It has invisible but significant shortcomings. Reducing a public initiative to a cost-benefit analysis is a convenient, but inadequate, way to understand what truly motivates people.
Proponents of Christmas lights primarily appeal to economic arguments. Light enlivens public spaces and revitalizes urban centers. Studies such as those by Tim Edensor and Steve Millington (2009) show that festive lighting can actually generate more activity at night than during the day. A well-lit space creates a stimulating atmosphere that encourages people to stroll, enter shops, and linger longer outdoors. Added to this consumption is the tourist attraction, a key incentive for many cities. Thus, Christmas lights become a major economic investment, with cascading effects on small and large businesses, hotels, restaurants, and the entire tourism ecosystem. Inevitably, however, objections arise. These are also formulated in economic terms, but from the perspective of thrift and redistributive ethics: allocating resources to Christmas lights when high levels of poverty, low wages, precariousness, and social vulnerability persist, even in the very cities where the lights are turned on, undermines its legitimacy. On the other hand, ignoring the commitment of the 2030 Agenda in a context of global warming that demands reducing the environmental impact of cities does not seem the most appropriate approach. The question is whether this competition between cities that we have observed in recent years to see who can illuminate more and better is truly necessary. Both seemingly antagonistic approaches share the same omission: they leave the complexity of human needs out of the analysis. They start from the model ofhomo economicus, an ideal construct of late 19th-century neoclassical thought that conceives of people –basically men, since women were not considered subjects of full rights at that time– as rational agents, with almost complete information, oriented towards maximizing their individual utility.
However, when the Barcelona City Council announced the switching on of the Christmas lights a few days ago, and 50,000 people traveled from their neighborhoods to the city center to see them, causing an urban gridlock that lasted for many hours, the motivation was neither rational nor economic. No one goes primarily to buy anything. They go in search of a shared sense of wonder, a collective experience of beauty.
The 'homo economicus It ignores the emotional dimension of human behavior; in fact, it considers emotions an interference. Hope, fear, guilt, empathy, or pride—central to decision-making and prosocial behavior—are treated as mere noise. Fundamental social motivations are also left out of the model: altruism, reciprocity, a sense of justice, belonging, values, or identity processes. Anything that doesn't produce a measurable benefit becomes invisible.
In dark times like these—and not just because of the season—when the news has become a succession of reasons for anguish, Christmas lights serve as a symbolic refuge for many people: a space of comfort, emotional security, and well-being, brief but tangible. A time to share with family, with children, with friends. A parenthesis of togetherness and hope.
One of my grandmothers was born in a farmhouse without electricity or running water. She always recalled with emotion the night of Epiphany, when her parents would light the house with candles and she would receive a small wicker basket filled with homemade sweets. When she remembered it, her gaze was that of a little girl, unchanged despite the passage of a century. The emotion hadn't aged. Therefore, the essential defense of dignified living conditions and sustainable growth cannot ignore people's emotional needs. Disregarding them leads us not only to material poverty but also to collective despair. Health—both physical and mental—demands this dual perspective.
