In Spain, bullfighting has long been a controversial issue, and now in Times of Coronavirus, it is even more so. Animal rights activists argue that bullfighting is a cruel practice and should be banned, whereas traditionalists say it should be preserved as a vital part of the cultural heritage. It is true that bullfighting is not a spectacle for the faint-of-heart because it involves the ritual killing of an animal, which many find difficult to watch. Nonetheless, from a strictly historical perspective, the traditionalists have a point. No one can deny that bullfighting is deeply-rooted in the Iberian Peninsula.
The Visigoth version of bullfighting was savage and disorganized (like bear-baiting in England). Thanks to the Moors from North Africa who invaded Andalusia in 711 AD, bullfighting became a more structured ritualistic event. During the centuries of conflict with the Christians for control of the Iberian Peninsula, Moorish chieftains and Christian knights occasionally turned their rivalry toward the ring and competed against each other on horseback in the killing of bulls. By the time that the Christians defeated the Moors in 1492, bullfighting had become a symbol of Spanish culture.
The oldest bullfighting ring in Spain is La Maestranza in Seville, where bullfights, as we know them today, have been held since 1765.
Bullfighting along with bull running are an integral part of many festivals held throughout Spain from April until October. These events are immensely popular, and despite the protests of animal rights activists, they would probably have continued if it had not been for Covid-19. Now, the coronavirus may very well have accomplished what animal rights activists were not able to.
Because of the pandemic, festivals and bull events have been cancelled throughout Spain. Regardless of any moral considerations, this has been catastrophic for the economy because these spectacles provide work for 54,000 people and generate nearly $4.4 billion for the economy annually, almost 1% of the GDP.
Despite what you may be thinking, this is not a defense of bullfighting. I have only gone to one bullfight in my life. This memorable day was in 1970 in Malaga when I was engaged to be married. My husband’s grandfather was the city police commissioner, and for that reason, he always received free tickets to all of the bullfights. He gave them to us so that I could experience my first bullfight.
We were able to sit in the shade (the most expensive section of a bullring). The seats in the sun are mostly for tourists, who do not mind risking sunstroke and dehydration. In Spain, afternoon hours are not a good time to sit outside in the sun unless one has a death wish.
I was curious about bullfighting. I had heard that Ava Gardner and Rita Hayworth had had torrid love affairs with Luis Dominguín, a famous bullfighter at that time. I had also read The Sun Also Rises and Death in the Afternoon, in which Hemingway eloquently defends bullfighting as a cultural symbol.
Since Hemingway was such a fan of bullfighting, I thought that it must be meaningful at some level. I thus resolved to keep an open mind and try to understand the new culture that I was becoming a part of.
I had been informed that a good bullfight is a symbiosis that not only requires a master bullfighter who can play the bull like a musical instrument, but also a bull with the right temperament who will charge the bullfighter at the appropriate intervals and allow him to show off his artistry. If one of these two ingredients is missing, then the end result will be flawed.
A standard bullfight consists of six bulls. Since each ritual killing lasted 20 minutes, I thought that I might be able to manage at least half of the event. Unfortunately, the first bullfighter on the program was not the sharpest crayon in the box or perhaps he just was not having a good day. In addition, the bull, who seemed rather intelligent (for a bull), quite understandably decided that it would be idiotic to charge at a pointed sword.
Given the lack of cooperation, the bullfighter ended up running at the bull to jab at it various times. After the animal finally crumbled in a half-dead bloody heap, it was mercifully finished off with a dagger. Not surprisingly, no one cheered the bullfighter, and he did not receive the bull’s ears or tail, which are the trophies awarded when everything turns out well.
My husband told me that it was pity that I had not seen a “clean death”, and that surely, the next bullfighter would do a better job. In a faint voice, I told him that I couldn’t manage another bull, and that we should leave…. unless he felt strong enough to carry an unconscious woman out of the bullring. He raised his eyebrows, but took it in stride. At the time, we were both making great efforts to come to terms with each other’s cultural differences.
After that experience, I have never entered another bullring. Nevertheless, over the years, I have viewed short segments of bullfights on the screen. They are easier to watch on television because they seem less real like the extraterrestrials that one kills in videogames.
I have since learned how young men become bullfighters and why they choose this profession. In Andalusia, there are about 20 bullfighting schools where one can learn the tricks of the trade. However, many well-known bullfighters, such as Manuel Benítez “El Cordobés”, never went to school and did things the hard way. In Spain, bullfighting is a means for poor young men to achieve fame and fortune, similar to the role of boxing in other countries. It is the road to a life of glamor, vast wealth, and beautiful women.
However, now most famous bullfighters were born into a family of bullfighters, such as Francisco and Cayetano Rivera, two brothers whose father, Paquirri, died in the bullring. Their grandfather, Antonio Ordonez, was immortalized in Hemingway's Death in the Afternoon.
Given their rugged good looks, both have also become media stars. Cayetano Rivera has even worked for George Armani as a photographic model. Quite recently, he posed with a face mask saying “Do not censure culture” as part of a protest by Spanish bullfighters who believe the country's spectacle is under threat.
And he is right. For better or for worse, bullfighting is in danger of extinction. Animal activists might applaud that many bulls have been saved, but this is not the case. Given the cancellation of bullfights, many ranchers have had no choice but to slaughter their animals. The viability of these prized animals as fighters is short-lived: to enter the arena as a "toro bravo" they can be no more than six years old -- or seven to join a street festival. After that, they are useless.
Raising a fighting bull costs a breeder about $5000, but the investment can be recouped by selling him for a show. However, if the bull ends up being sold to the slaughterhouse, there is only a 10 percent return on investment. This year, the bulls that outgrow the age limits for bullfighting and street festivals will end up as steak.
So, many breeding farms will probably go out of business. To remain open, they would have to reinvent themselves by promoting tours of the farms to show off the fighting bulls as the cultural attraction that they are. They could perhaps organize shows like those put on at the old spaghetti western sites in Almeria where Clint Eastwood filmed “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly”.
There is also the possibility that bullfights will be broadcast behind closed doors like soccer matches without fans. Will this save bullfighting? Should it be saved at all? It all depends on whom you ask.
