The prospect of watching a young, defenseless animal be poked and prodded, teased and tortured, while an anxious crowd looked on with delight never appealed to me—until I found out that this could be the last chance for me to view this type of event. So while I was in Lisbon this summer, I did something I never thought I would do: I attended a bullfight.
Although bullfighting traces its roots to Roman times, it has historically been a contentious topic: in 1567, Pope Pius V issued a papal decree banning it. This ruling only lasted eight years until Pope Gregory XIII abolished it at the request of King Philip II of Spain. During the 18th and 19th centuries, there were several attempts to prohibit or limit bullfighting, but it became a popular spectacle in the Iberian Peninsula as a way for aristocratic men to demonstrate their bravery, skill, and strength. Kings presided over these prestigious events, though other members of the royal family did not hide their dislike for bullfighting. Eventually, the Portuguese came to believe the Spanish version of the bullfight to be beneath them, and thus fine-tuned the sport to represent what they believed to be their superior ethical values. While the famed Spanish-style bullfights still end the spectacle with a carefully placed sword into the heart of the bull, the Portuguese end their show with “grabbing the bull by the horns,” after which the animal is escorted from the stadium by a herd of lowing cows and is killed without fanfare behind closed doors. In Portugal today, there are rumblings that the government may ban bullfights altogether.
Walking up to the Moorish-style stadium in Lisbon, camera in hand, I was prepared to see a small drove of burlap-clad animal-rights activists banging on tambourines and chanting about respect for all living beings. What I did not expect to see was a group of average-looking citizens of all ages, standing respectfully behind barricades and police lines, holding signs reading, “Bullfighting is neither art nor culture.”
The protesters raised an interesting question: if the people of the country no longer support bullfighting as a demonstration of skill and artistry, is it still part of their culture? Or is it now a part of their history?
Most countries have banned bullfighting on the grounds of animal cruelty, and it has also been prohibited in various Iberian towns. In 2007, the state-run Spanish television station cancelled live coverage of bullfights, deeming the events too violent for young viewers because the spectacles have “sequences that are particularly crude or brutal.” Though a Portuguese television station followed suit in January of this year, also citing concern for minors, I found that live showings are still easily accessible on Portuguese TV.
In Barcelona, it is estimated that 70 percent of those who go to see the bullfights are tourists, and a 2002 Gallup poll found that nearly 70 percent of Spaniards express “no interest” in bullfighting. The same poll also found that over 50 percent of those aged 65 and older expressed interest in the sport, while less than a quarter of those between the ages of 25 and 34 did. If such a small part of the population still sees bullfighting to be an important artistic display, can it now be called an antiquated form of entertainment?
Culture is constantly evolving and changing; it does not remain stagnant, nor should it. Finding a way to respect and honor the customs of the past while advancing toward the future can be challenging, but it is possible to navigate both tradition and modernity. The Portuguese tried to do this in the 18th century by removing the most gruesome part of the bullfight from the arena, but the current lack of interest from the community at large begs the question of whether or not this is enough of a compromise. The Iberian community’s dislike of bullfighting demonstrates a change in their views, and this should be respected just as much, if not more, than the sport’s historical background.
To say that those who protest bullfighting are ignoring their country’s history is wrong. They are simply adding to a discussion formed by current culture, but backed by hundreds of years of dissent and disapproval.
The Spanish and Portuguese whom I met in my ventures abroad didn’t show a great interest in the sport, and many had no desire to attend fights, preferring instead to watch soccer matches and sip espresso for hours on end at sidewalk cafés. These activities, though perhaps not the historic symbols of Iberian tradition, are the true and natural cultural phenomena that have taken root in the region. These things, not the violence and supposed gallantry of the bullring, are their culture.
