Bullfighting in Spain

By Christopher Minster

Okay, okay, I know, I know. Bullfighting is evil, matadors are cruel and heartless, it’s all barbaric, anyone who would go to such a spectacle is a troglodyte, blah blah blah. Okay, now that I’ve appeased all of the politically correct bullfighting-haters that have popped up in the last 20 years or so, let’s talk a little bit about what bullfighting really means to its fans and what is its role in modern Spain.

The roots of modern bullfighting are a bit murky. Many believe that it is a surviving form of worship to the ancient Cult of Mithras, an early Persian religion. It was adopted in part by the Romans, although very little is known about the sect or its rituals. One known form of worship for the Cult of Mithras was to sacrifice a bull, and many of the oldest Spanish bullrings are located near mithraea, dark, cavelike temples used by the cult. Others believe that it is a surviving form of Roman gladiatorial games, many of which pitted humans against animals. Still others insist that bullfighting came out of the interminable wars between Christians and Moors in the medieval era: Moorish forces would often send stampedes of bulls against their opponents, who had to learn how to fight them.

In any event, by the eleventh century, bullfighting was an established practice in the Iberian Peninsula. Legendary Christian king and warrior El Cid was known to be a bullfighter as well, and for centuries it was a common practice of nobility. Like jousting and melee tournaments, it was seen as a way to gain glory and train oneself for wars and combat. Fighting the bull on foot is a relatively recent development: bullfights were exclusively done on horseback until the eighteenth century.

The sport has evolved greatly over time: today’s mounted picadors, whose job it is to damage certain muscles in the bull’s neck with lances, were once armed with javelins and had a much bigger role. In Spain, the modern bullfight is a highly ritualized, formal affair. Each bullfighter has his (or her) own entourage, which includes two Picadors (mounted riders with lances), one young sword page, and three banderilleros, whose job it is to tire the bull out and jab it with brightly colored rods sharpened on one end. If done properly, the rod remains stuck in the bull for the duration of the fight.

In a traditional Spanish bullfight, three matadors will each fight two bulls in alternating fashion: in other words, one matador will fight the first and fourth bulls, the next will fight the second and fifth, etc. The bulls are all at least four years old and weigh several hundred pounds. They are bred for ferocity and stamina by special ranchers: some ranches have been raising prize bulls for centuries.

The fight begins when the matador enters the ring with his entourage and salutes any visiting dignitaries. They take their positions and the first bull is released. It is generally cut with a small knife before entering the ring to make it angry. The bull runs around the ring for a while, chasing the toreros who taunt it with pink-and-yellow capes to tire it out somewhat. During this time, the matador is watching the bull to learn its tendencies and weaknesses.

Trumpets sound, marking the beginning of the next round. The picadors enter, mounted on armored horses and wielding sharp lances. It is their job to damage the strong muscles in the bull’s neck: if these are not cut or damaged, any bull catching a matador on one of his horns will be able to flick his head, goring the man and causing further injury. After the picadors, the banderilleros come out. They must stick the bull with brightly colored banderas, also in the neck, further weakening it.

Once the deadly neck muscles of the bull have been sufficiently neutralized, the matador himself takes the stage. He stands alone with his sword and red cape, which he uses to draw the bull into several charges. Deftly stepping aside at the last instant, it is considered a mark of bravery for him to stand as close as possible to the bull. Once he has made several passes, he exchanges swords and kills the bull.

Ideally, he can stab the bull between the shoulder blades as it charges him: if done correctly, the sword goes in up to the hilt, stabbing the heart, and the bull drops instantly. Often, the matador needs more than one attempt. If the matador has put on a particularly good show, he or she will receive one or more ears and possibly even the tail of the bull as prizes for his valor. Once the bull is dead, it is dragged off and the bullring surface is raked and repaired before the next fight. In a nod towards political correctness, the meat of the bull is often used to feed the poor or needy of the city where the bullfight took place.

The Spanish are a proud people, and they value their traditions greatly. In addition, they resent it when anyone tried to tell them what to do. For this reason, all cries from around the world to do away with bullfighting have fallen on deaf ears.

Fans point out that bullfighting is a centuries-old tradition, practiced once by Spanish kings, and that it is of great benefit to the local economy. Aficionados of the sport point out that the bull has a fair chance to gore the matador, which happens occasionally. They also mention that it is only the best matadors who gain the most fame and acclaim: no one hates a messy kill more than the fans. The best bullfighters are often treated like rock stars wherever they go, and glossy magazines featuring them are popular with teenagers. On extremely rare occasions, a bull that has proven to be particularly ferocious and noble will be pardoned and sent to pasture to father more bulls like himself.

Those opposed to bullfighting consider it an outdated blood sport, unnecessarily cruel to the bull. They say it tarnishes Spain’s image abroad and point out that anti-cruelty laws must include exemptions for bullfighting or it would already be illegal. There is a strong anti-bullfighting movement growing in Spain, where increasing numbers of young people see it as barbaric and archaic. Even the Spanish Royal Family is split on the topic: King Juan Carlos and his daughter Princess Elena enjoy taking in an occasional bullfight but Queen Sophia reportedly finds it disgusting.

If you’re visiting Spain, you may find yourself deciding whether or not to attend a bullfight. With apologies to the politically correct crowd, I would personally suggest you do so. I don’t think it’s fair to criticize something you’ve never seen and experienced: if you’re going to be anti-bullfight, you owe it to yourself to at least see one so that you can hate it properly. As a tourist, it is even more relevant: there is nothing more Spanish than taking in a bullfight on a bright Andalusian day. Lastly, bullfighting’s days may be numbered: some day you may find yourself telling your grandchildren about how you watched one of the last bullfights, a tradition that dates back to the Roman gladiators.