{"id":4936,"date":"2026-06-05T11:32:35","date_gmt":"2026-06-05T09:32:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/marisana.es\/a-brief-sung-history-of-cannabis-in-spain-3\/"},"modified":"2026-06-05T11:34:18","modified_gmt":"2026-06-05T09:34:18","slug":"a-brief-sung-history-of-cannabis-in-spain-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/marisana.es\/en\/a-brief-sung-history-of-cannabis-in-spain-3\/","title":{"rendered":"A brief sung history of cannabis in Spain (3)"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Between one song and another, almost without realizing it, we reached the final decade of the 20th century and entered the new 21st century. In this third and final installment, we arrive at the present day, where a once minority and countercultural habit, such as smoking a joint, has become widespread in just a few decades. So, between puffs and songs, let us bring our story to a close.<\/h5>\n\n

The 1990s: the rise of cannabis activism<\/h2>\n\n

The 1990s brought the rise of cannabis activism in Spain, a dispersed force that developed alongside the social normalization of cannabis use. Its founding milestone came in 1991 with the creation of the Ram\u00f3n Santos Association for the Study of Cannabis<\/strong>. Challenging anti-drug policies, the ARSEC<\/strong><\/a> carried out the first collective cannabis cultivation project and became the origin of the associative movement that, over time and by taking advantage of legal loopholes, has filled Spain with liberated spaces such as Cannabis Social Clubs (CSCs), like our own.<\/h5>\n\n
During this period, the so-called Corcuera Law was enacted, an attempt to ensure that the celebrations of Expo \u201992 would not be overshadowed by the smell of joints that permeated the streets and many bars of Seville, a situation that would have been unthinkable elsewhere in Europe.<\/h5>\n\n
The reality was that, following the introduction of this controversial law, bartenders would scold you if, amid the thick tobacco smoke that filled bars at the time, you decided to light up a joint.<\/h5>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
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This repression left its mark on the outstanding We Can't Do It Here<\/em><\/strong> (1995) by Los Rodr\u00edguez. Set to a reggae<\/em> rhythm, this is already a protest song against persecution and also a song of eternal love for hashish, where each puff becomes a kiss and the habit is elevated with the power of forbidden love in defiance of the moralists who decide what people should or should not do.<\/h5>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div>