Translating the Corrida de Toros: Bull Culture in 21st Century Europe

With thanks to The Peter Kirk European Travel Scholarship

Bill Webb

TRANSLATING THE CORRIDA DE TOROS: B ULL CULTURE IN 21ST CENTURY EUROPE

TABLE OF C ONTENTS

Mlaga: Introduction, anti-taurinos, or pro-abolitionists Seville: Modernity and tradition Madrid: School of toreros; Madrid in August Salamanca and Laguna de Duero: To kill receiving; the horseback corrida Barcelona: The patchwork bull-hide San Sebastin de los Reyes: Bulls in the street Arles: The international corrida ; conclusion Acknowledgements Works referenced

2 8 11 15 18 21 24 28 29

Mlaga
Introduction; anti-taurinos, or pro-abolitionists

The crowd watched the bull in silence and the bull watched the cape, entranced. He did not appear to notice the matador1* standing between him and his target just inches away from his horns. They moved from left to right, following the red cape, or muleta, which the matador - Julian Lpez Escobar El Juli - slowly swung from side to side behind his back, but the 601 kg bull did not move. I had seen this animal enter the ring barely ten minutes before, I had seen him charge furiously at any sign of movement from the large, pink capotes, the heavier capes used to receive the bull in the first third of the sacrifice and I had heard him snort as he galloped, carrying his half-ton frame with ease, past our seats in the sun. But now El Juli held him hypnotised. He had succeeded in convincing the bull that the only other living creature on the sand was the red cloth. He held out his arm and shook; summoning the bull for another series of passes, bending the mass of muscle around his waist and drawing him in so close that he left streaks of blood on his suit of lights. It was only then, as the second bull of the afternoon was prepared for death under the relentless Malaguean sun, that I began to see why so many people speak and write of the bulls in the language of tragedy; this brute force of nature had been dominated, whilst retaining his dignity, by intelligence and skill, because the man had exploited his sole flaw: his instinct. I am in Mlaga during their week long August festival to discover more about this world. It is the first leg of a trip across Spain and France to find out what place this spectacle and other taurine events occupy in modern Europe and whether there is a future for them on a continent growing ever more homogenised, sanitised and, on the surface at least, animal-friendly. Like most British people, I had been brought up to see the corrida as the dark side of Spain; a savage blood-sport to be looked down on whilst I holidayed on the white-washed fringes of the nation. To the despair of many English and American aficionados, my curiosity was first piqued by the words of Ernest Hemingway, but since first reading The Dangerous Summer, I have discovered an array of other writers, Hispanophone and Anglophone, who exalt the killing of bulls as beautiful, cathartic theatre. One of the first things I learned was that there has never been a bullfight in Spain: they will run (correr2*) or struggle against (lidiar3*) a bull, but never fight him - fading posters hung in bullring museums announce that on a given date six bulls will be pic-ed (a horseman pricks the bull with a lance), will be darted (thin, colourful sticks with a small hook on one end, called banderillas [literally little flags], are placed two at a time into the bulls back from the front) and will then be put to death by the sword a curved blade to better penetrate the animal. The corrida is evidently not a competition; it is a scripted ritual, and tragedy certainly seems an apt title, as when the struggle begins on the hot sand, everybody but the hero already knows the outcome. There are six bulls in a corrida. After the parade, the first bull is announced. A sign carried to the centre of the ring lists his name, the farm from which he came, his weight and his date of birth. The sign holder leaves and the door is opened. The bull enters. He is encouraged to charge the pink capes offered from behind the wooden panels placed around the ring whilst the toreros observe how he carries himself and how he runs. The picadors ride in on their padded horses and one will call the bull to charge. They must wait outside the larger of the two circles drawn into the sand. He charges the horse and, on contact, the man places the pic just behind the large crest of muscle on his back. The toreros then lead the bull away from the horse. The amount of pics a picador will give depends on the strength of the bull, but it usually between one and three. The horses leave as the bull is occupied with the pink capes and then the banderillas are placed. These are inserted two at a time in a variety of
1*

The matador is the man who kills the bull. A torero is any man on the sand involved in working the bull. From which we get corrida de toros, which literally means running of bulls (i.e. making them pursue the cape). Not to be confused with the English term bull-run, which the Spanish call an encierro; an enclosure or, more loosely, herding of bulls. 3* Although in many contexts lidiar can be translated as to fight, it comes from the Latin litigare, which means to dispute: it does not always have the violence of to fight and so I do not think that it is an appropriate translation here. Sports such as cock-fighting are translated with the verb pelear, and a pelea de toros (lit. fight of bulls) can only be used to express a fight between two bulls.
2*

ways, with nothing between the man and the bull. There will usually be three pairs placed. The matador then begins the third of death, using the red cape. He lowers the bulls head and then, when both are ready, kills. Whether the corrida provided the catharsis and the profound pleasure of which I had read, only a subjective viewing could possibly determine. I had been told that the beauty of a good corrida served as ample justification for the suffering caused to the animal and truly was to die for. After the afternoons first bull, which had been tame, refusing to charge and seeking an exit, I would have said that this is not true. After the second; perhaps. The following four bulls did not provide the clarification I had hoped would come after the first corrida: I was no more certain of whether or not I would develop affection for the spectacle as I left the arena, but I was now sure that it was something I truly wanted to investigate and I will try to render into English what I find in this seemingly alien universe as best I can.

The matadors step onto the sand at my first ever corrida in Mlaga. From left to right: Juan Jos Padilla, Alejandro Talavante, Julian Lpez Escobar 'El Juli'. Note the Jolly Roger hanging over the barrier: this is in tribute to Padilla, who lost an eye in a horrific goring in 2011. After his second bull the flag is thrown onto the sand, along with hats and wineskins, and he carries it, along with his young daughter, on a lap of honour. 21/08/2013

A handful of the Club Taurino of Londons (CTL) 350 members are in Mlaga for this feria. Such organisations exist all over the world, gathering in their own countries to discuss goings on in the world of the bulls. They host talks, create publications and meet to watch corridas. Thanks to the internet, they can now do this even when far from the seven countries in which they are still celebrated 4*, although many, including the President of the Club Taurino of New York, fail to see the appeal in this; Lore Monnig told me, its like ballet; theyve trie d films, TV, but it just doesnt transmit. At this single event I met British, German, Dutch and Argentinean aficionados, all of whom flock to Spain every year for one reason. We discuss my research on the bars terrace after the corrida. Most of them have been coming to Spain for many years and point out technical subtleties I had not been able to notice. This report will perhaps be of little benefit to them on this level, as their knowledge far outweighs mine. This is not intended to be an explanation of the corrida; there would be little point in me writing one. It is an explanation of my introduction to it. Everything I have read on the subject until now has been written by authors whose views on the issue are already, entirely or partly, decided and who thus tailor information for their own ends. I hope my end will be tailored by what I find and that I am able to guide those who, like me, are unsure but open by sketching this world El Juli passing his first bull with the muleta in Mlaga. This is as it appears. Those who already have some the final third of the ritual; the third of death and El Juli is trying to lower the animals head to prepare him for this. I knowledge of the tradition will possibly find my recall that this bull died much more quickly than Padillas work, if not informative on a technical level, first. I also recall being surprised when, as soon as the animal interesting on a personal one as I recount my first, was dead, the vendors immediately struck up again in the stands. 21/08/13 naive steps into the corrida.
4*

These are: Spain, France, Portugal (where the animal is not killed in the ring, but later in a slaughterhouse), Mxico, Colombia, Peru, and Venezuela. Ecuador and Panam have recently banned Spanish style corridas.

The CTL members are encouraging and keen to know about my interest in the bulls, but I let them do most of the talking: this was the first time I had seen something die and it had left a strange taste in my mouth. These people are beyond that now, having made their arguments and defences so many times and having seen the corrida which washes all of the bad ones away. But before I leave, one of the clubs older members offers me a warning, I can probably count the number of good ferias I have been to on one hand; if you are going to follow the bulls, you must learn to be a masochist. I laugh and am suddenly reminded of the interview I had conducted the day before with Antonio Moreno, President of the Andalucian Collective against the Mistreatment of Animals (CACMA: Colectivo Andaluz Contra el Maltrato Animal in Spanish): he sees only sadism in the bullring. Although I had understood little of what I had seen and still had very confused feelings about it, having felt both the potential for great beauty and also the guilt of the price paid for it, what I did know was that I didnt agree with Antonio about the corridas sadism. T he murmurs of pleasure I had felt came not from watching the animal suffer, but from how he seemed to shrug it off; the bulls were beautiful creatures, powerful and elegant with their tight, sleek coats, and the matadors did not humiliate them as I had been told they would; with the capes they transcended themselves and the beasts; emphasising the power and bravery of them both. The audience showed respect, admiration and almost reverence towards the bulls. It is when Othello is punished the most that he is most captivating. As Spanish dramatist Ramn del Valle-Incln once argued, ones love for the hero actor or bull is increased, or even created, by surrounding him with threats and danger 5. Had I followed the advice of international pressure groups working to ban the corrida, I would have had a very mistaken image of what a corrida really was. As not to financially support the industry, most dissuade the tourist from judging with their own eyes and instead offer a series of photographs, along with descriptions of what happens to the bull in the ring. Had I not seen El Juli, Juan Jos Padilla and Alejandro Talavante each face

Graffiti on a building in Madrids University district reads Tauromaquia es sadismo: Bullfighting is sadism. All across Spain I see the slogan ni arte ni cultura written on buildings; it means [bullfighting is] neither art nor culture. 23/08/13

Valle-Incln, RM del, Cartas a un amigo de Provincias (1905), Salmonetes ya no nos quedan, Quintano, IR, 28.04.2011 Web. (accessed 25.10.13)

two bulls before me, I would have had thought the corrida glorified butchery. Both the photographs and descriptions on many of these sites are often, I have seen first-hand, equally misleading. The camera does not lie, but can be sparing with the truth. Having only just begun to truly question my relationship with animals, I was just as likely to turn vegetarian as I was aficionado in Mlaga, but I felt deceived by the sites I had consulted before my arrival. They had called for the abolition of the corrida, but did not seem to know what it was, or worse, they did know, and presented it thus regardless; greatly exaggerating the violence of the bulls treatment before and during the event, which I shall discuss in more detail later, and conflating into one abhorrent unit separate bull spectacles and games, which I would later discover are entirely unrelated. I was therefore very fortunate to meet somebody like Antonio, who is an anomaly in this world, being one of the very few members of his organisation to have been to a corrida, let alone more than one. Over coffee we discuss his work as a pro-abolitionist (he corrects me when I say anti-taurino6*). For him, it began one day in 1995; until then he had been an aficionado, attending corridas all over Spain and, because of his fathers contacts, visiting famous bull farms and dining with toreros. But on this day, as the picador fixed his lance in the charging bull, he decided he had seen enough, stood up and left. He realised that he had never been an aficionado who admired the skill and art of the torero, but one of those who, he claims, make up the majority of the audience; idle fans there through habit and tradition, simply because it is fiesta time. He believes knowledgeable aficionados are few and far between and many go in hope of a goring, out of mere bloodlust; citing the fact that almost all aficionados have rejected a bloodless form of the corrida which has recently been developed. In a bloodless corrida, the picadors lance is tipped with red paint rather than a blade, the banderillas are attached with Velcro to a belt around the bulls body, and the sword slips harmlessly into a pocket rather than between the ribs. Toreros and aficionados readily admit that the corrida would be nothing without the supreme sacrifice; matador Francisco Rivera Ordoez saying in an interview, I dont understand the bullfight with no kill for the bull 7, but for them, they insist, this is not because they want to see blood and violence, but instead because the corrida without death becomes mere spectacle. In Mlaga, those there for fiesta drink in the streets and stay away from the bullring, whilst the audience at the arena are knowledgeable; they are quick to whistle and criticise an overzealous picador, who nearly ruins one of the bulls8*, and they request trophies only when deserved; only when a kill has been clean and effective. For, if a matador has performed well, the audience can implore the president to award him with either one ear, two ears, or both ears and the tail from the dead bull in recognition of his work. The request is made by waving white handkerchiefs towards the Presidents box. It is said that an ear awarded in Mlaga is an ear awarded by law. Whilst for Antonio the thirds of the corrida are humiliating the bull, torturing him, and then murdering him, for taurinos, the bull is hero, not enemy. As Salvador Dal said, the bull is a Spanish god who sacrifices himself, the toreros are only his priests.9 But for abolitionists, how the bull is seen by his killers is irrelevant; CACMA do not fight against the corrida because they believe it morally corrosive, they fight for the animals. This is the reason that they have now abandoned marches and protests for educational campaigns and demonstrations in city centres. Some radical organisations protest outside rings, some even invade them during corridas and many international taurinos have reported receiving death threats, but Antonio sees little point in antagonising the aficionado who already knows where he stands on the issue. Having received a number of threats himself after speaking in Catalan parliament shortly before the region became the first in mainland Spain to ban the corrida, Antonio implores respect above all. They are nothing more than cowards, he tells me as he lights another cigarette. CACMA want to change the law and the mind of the citizen in the street. To do this they petition councils, publicly denounce specific cases of animal abuse and educate the non-aficionado about the truth of the corrida by
6*

The Royal Spanish Academy defines a taurino as an aficionado of bulls. An aficionado is one who feels aficin towards something, which translates as love or affection. 7 Tosko, C The bull and the Ban (ebook: Suerte Publishing, 2012) loc. 1441 8* The function of the pic is to start to bleed the bull; giving him a slower, calmer charge, but without taking away too much of his strength. A poorly placed or prolonged pic will cause unnecessary damage to a bull and make him liable to tire prematurely. 9 Tynan, K Bull Fever (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1955) p.165

carrying out public performances, which involve protesters lying in the street covered in red paint with banderillas stuck to their backs. Most of the activists are vegetarian or vegan and so for them, this is the truth of the corrida: they see no difference between killing an animal and a human, but for the majority of society, this is not the case. Only 2% of British people are vegetarian and the ratio of vegetarians to meat eaters in Spain is believed to be even lower10. The public evidently does not judge human and animal suffering to be equal, and so to present the corrida as synonymous with the torture of humans seems grossly unfair, particularly when the majority of people targeted by such campaigns will doubtlessly be meat eaters. Both within Spain and abroad, those complicit in the meat industry are convinced that their vice is insignificant compared to the bulls. Despite his knowledge of the corrida, Antonios site is as guilty of making highly spuriou s claims about the treatment of the bull before and during his sacrifice as many of the others. These claims have been laughed off by the bullraising industry, and some of them, I, with no first-hand experience and just a little research, am certain are not true; such as the accusation that a bull will be blinded before he faces the torero by having Vaseline rubbed into his eyes. The toreros only protection comes from knowing that the bull will charge the cape and not him and, as the bull charges at movement and not colour, to blind him would be highly counter-productive. According to a range of sites dedicated to abolishing the tradition, the animal has already been virtually destroyed by the time he enters the ring; lowered by having bags of sand dropped onto his back and disorientated by a series of other punishments. However, as all bulls must, by Spanish law, be inspected by a veterinary surgeon before they are allowed into the ring, and thousands of euros have gone into creating an animal which is judged, above all, on its nobility, (and will sometimes be rejected from a ring for lack of it) I am, by the time I meet Antonio, slightly dubious of the validity of these claims and even more so now I have seen corridas. However, I have also seen that the illegal practice of horn-shaving, although much less common than it once was, still exists. To every fans shame, some bulls have their horns blunted befo re being sent out to the ring. There has been a long battle against this and it virtually never occurs at respected arenas nowadays, but cases in minor venues make for strong ammunition for abolitionists who claim that the practice unbalances and disorientates the animal, like cutting the whiskers of a cat. From what I have seen in a small town where the horns of all six bulls were almost certainly shaved, the animals charges were normal and accurate; lacking merely the tearing power of intact horns and naturally this view is supported by those defending the corrida. This makes the crime no less reprehensible, but perhaps illustrates the way in which the industrys failings can be and are exploited. As the British torero Alexander Fiske-Harrison said to me when we met in London, are the pics and the banderillas not enough? Perhaps they are not. What detractors have wisely tried to do is attack the one aspect of the corrida which cannot be denied; its reality. The corrida is the only spectacle which offers at once a dramatic representation of death (and, of course, life) along with the real thing. Of the corridas I have since seen across Spain, what has most taken my breath has been the power of the bulls, who are physically able to kill the man at any moment. Those who face them, whether or not they are doing something moral or immoral, truly are endangering their lives for their craft. But by removing the corridas most redeeming feature, its brutal honesty, and painting a picture of deceit and horrific, hidden torture, it becomes simply the representation of risk. In this light, the meat industry becomes almost saintly, despite the fact that animals used solely for meat (fighting cattle are sold for meat afterwards) often have a much less pleasant life and death. Although animals must be stunned before slaughter, as of 2003, 0.8% of UK cattle were killed without any form of stunning11. 0.8% represents approximately 7,200,000 animals, and this number is believed to have gone up rather than down since then. Exceptions to stunning laws are made for both religious and economic reasons. Investigations also continue to show that a great deal of animals in the UK are insufficiently stunned, leaving them conscious at the point of slaughter. Meanwhile, when challenged on the suffering caused to the bull, which Antonio tells me is unbearable, defenders of the corrida often point to the animals behaviour in the act of
10

Fact Sheets: Number of UK Vegetarians. Vegetarian Society, The Vegetarian Society of the United Kingdom Limited, n.d. Web. (accessed 11.09.13) 11 Study on the stunning/killing practices in slaughterhouses and their economic, social and environmental consequences European Commission Directorate General for Health and Consumer Protection, European Commission, 2007 Web. (accessed 11.09.13)

lances. Despite the pic, which can penetrate up to 8 cm, placed just behind the crest of muscle on the bulls back, he does not recoil. He will continue to charge against the horse and will often return to it several times, bringing more punishment, which he seems to ignore; a cross on the lance prevents the bull from killing itself. It cannot be known for certain whether the bull is intelligent enough to link the satisfaction of charging with the pain brought by the pic, but it is clear that he is focused on only one thing when his horns are driving against the horses Kevlar-clad flank. In fact, there is evidence to suggest that the true brave bull, which is what all breeders try to create, suffers much less in the ring than his distant cousins do in the slaughterhouse due to the hormones released by charging. In the abattoir, fear is rife and animals tend to undergo high levels of stress as they are herded, but the corrida plays to the bulls nature: according to an extensive study by the vet Juan Carlos Illera del Portal of the Universidad Complutense de Madrid, a fighting bulls stress levels are up to three times higher during transportation to the ring than they are during the corrida itself. Through charging, the bull will release an extraordinary amount of beta-endorphins; these are satisfying hormones which cancel out much of the pain which would otherwise be caused by the pic and the banderillas similar to how one will often not feel a wound until after a trauma when one has calmed and ones hormone levels have returned to normal. Antonio doesnt believe this is the case, but he does accept that, in terms of suffering, the Portuguese corrida is much worse than the Spanish tradition. In the Portuguese style, the bull is not allowed to be killed in the ring, but he does receive wounds from horsemen and has banderillas placed. After he has been worked on the sand, he is led away by steers. But a bull cannot legally enter a ring more than once and so must go to the slaughterhouse. This gives him plenty of time for adrenaline levels to return to normal and for sensations of pain to mount, if the corrida takes place on Saturday, many slaughterhouses dont open until Monday he leaves me to imagine the rest. That is the danger of a ban based on sensibilities rather than animal rights. I respect Antonio because he is consistent in his beliefs and actions (he proudly shows me his non-leather wallet, belt and shoes), but people like him make up a tiny minority of those who have declared themselves in one way or another against the fiesta. Despite the evidence proving fighting bulls more often than not suffer less than meat cattle, it is still despised and demonised: because it is grotesque, because it is vulgar, because the red of the blood strikes such a contrast with the bulls flank on a video watched far from the sunny plaza. Misguided good-will will produce flawed results and many argue that were the corrida to be banned now and fighting cattle raisers forced to convert into meat farmers, animal welfare would actually worsen in the country. We cannot, of course, justify the corrida as right by citing a greater wrong in the world, but it does
The bull continues to drive into the horse despite the pic at the Goyesque corrida in Arles, France. I saw the horses being unloaded and dressed before the final corrida of the festival which took place the following day. They seemed calm and healthy. These horses wear Kevlar suits which the bulls horns cannot penetrate, but until 1930 they were not protected and were frequently disembowelled. 07/09/2013

allow us to contextualise it and depolemicize it, which will subsequently permit us to see it for what it objectively is rather than what it is often rashly made out to be.

Sevilla
Tradition and Modernity

In Espartinas, a small town to the West of Seville, I meet Rafael Peralta Revuelta. He is the son of Rafael Peralta Pineda who, with his brother, runs the celebrated Rancho de Roco, where bulls and horses destined for the plaza are raised. The family are legendary in the world of rejoneo -the corrida on horseback- the brothers headlining together at Spains biggest rings throughout the 20th century. Rafael is a lawyer, poet, and horseman. Having grown up surrounded by the animals at the ranch in the heart of the Doana nature reserve, a green counterpoint to Andalusias arid yellow, t he bulls truly are in his blood. But he is at the forefront of a project to marry centuries-old tradition with modernity and innovation in order to bring the corrida into the 21st century. Here in Espartinas, Rafael, along with Eduardo Dvila Miura, (on whose familys notorious ranch the biggest and most dangerous bulls have been bred since the mid-19th century) is running the latest in a series of courses teaching fans of the corrida how to torear12* themselves. In recent years the industry has opened up in a way it had never done before. Perhaps this is a result of dwindling ticket sales or the perceived threat to its future from ever-growing pressure groups; either way, one no longer needs to have family or friends in the business to, as the motto of Rafaels group, the Club Aficionados Prcticos Taurinos, says, dare to feel the magic of toreo. Whilst Rafael tells me about his farm in the alleyway around the ring, some twenty or thirty aficionados practise their passes and their banderilla work before us with varying levels of skill and grace, churning the sand up into a thick cloud. They are preparing for their upcoming (bloodless) date with a live animal on the weekend at the farm of Morante de la Puebla, who is one of Spains greatest working matadors. There seems to be no atmosphere of snobbery from taurine dynasties and legends towards those trying to enter the world; it is the biggest names in the business that are supporting this drive to open up the once inwards industry, with an impressive list of first category matadors offering their private training rings to the group. Rafael believes there is a school of valours behind toreo and that is ultimately what their program seeks to share. They do not train these people to a professional level, but rather want to allow fans to practise toreo as a hobby. It will be like golf, Rafael says, maybe we will begin to run competitions. Given that there is also an increasing demand for these courses from corporations as team-building exercises, one can assume that the danger of this form of toreo is somewhat reduced, but far from stripping the corrida of its title of the last serious thing (as Federico Garca Lorca said), Rafael and his organisation think that this form of instruction will educate the aficionado to better appreciate the severity of what happens within the ring; expanding the core of knowledgeable, committed fans as to steady attendance levels which, during years of greater economic prosperity, were at the whim of fashion and trend. Now the corrida is, without doubt, at the mercy of the economy. With the number of bull-related events plummeting Matador Antonio Ferrera places his own banderillas in Salamanca. Nowadays, this over recent years, (the number tends to be done by a specialist banderillero, who is employed by the matador. I sat of all festivals fell 37% in the sun for this corrida; an elderly man beside me told me to the minute when the
shade would arrive. 14/09/13

12

Torear is the verb used to describe everything done to by the toreros; it means, in its broadest sense, to work a bull. The noun is toreo. I will leave these in Spanish herein to avoid the loaded and loathsome bullfight.

between 2007 and 201113) the farms which sprung up during the construction boom can now sell their bulls for just a fraction of their former price. Despite the decreasing number of events, there are more ranches producing fighting bulls now than ever before, and so only the most renowned are able to sell their animals for anywhere near 6000, which Rafael tells me was the average rate before the crisis. They might receive a better price if they sell them to a town for a bull-in-the-street festival (this was once considered sha meful, but pride has been swallowed in the crisis) as the purchase of creatures for such events is often made by a group of aficionados who each contribute a small amount, but if they sell to a plaza they will likely get little more than 3000. Some have even resorted to selling cattle directly to slaughterhouses. Those which are condemned to the abattoir will doubtless, however, have had a finer life than the other animals they meet there. Life on bull farms has hardly changed in the past one hundred years. The Peralta bulls, who go only to the plaza, are free to roam across the plains for four years, testing their horns on one another, growing and grazing far from the touch of humans. The only contact they will have with man is at their testing. When he is two years old, a calf will face a smaller version of the pic and the farmer, observing how he charges the horse and how he responds to the lance, will decide whether he is fit for the ring or whether he is to be used for beef (if defects are minor, he may be kept to be killed at the age of three as a novillo by apprentice matadors). The females will be caped to decide whether they are suitable for breeding, but, as Spanish law does not allow a bull to be worked with a cape more than once in his life due to the speed at which he learns where his real opponent is, this does not happen to the males. Rafael explains to me how the calfs life will then progress. If he passes the test, he will live in the fields for two more years until he is ready for the ring. The organiser of a corrida will approach the farmer and ask him for a number of bulls for an upcoming event. He will set a number aside and the matadors who have agreed with the organiser to appear at the ring will have them inspected by their observers, who will decide if any are not acceptable for their master to face. The bulls will be accompanied to the ring by either the farm owner or his head pastor where, before entering the ring, they will be judged on their bearing and a vet will examine them; ensuring that they have not been mistreated and that their horns are intact.

A three-year old bull, or novillo, in Las Ventas, Madrid. None of the animals would charge that afternoon and If a bulls horns are damaged or split (this can happen instead chopped with their horns. This was taken the day before I flew home and was the first corrida Madrid-based on the farm or during transit), he should be rejected by photographer, Ellyn OByrne, had been to. My apologies go the vet and replaced with another bull, at a huge cost to her for suggesting we go. Photo by Ellyn O'Byrne. to the farmer. As such, many newer farms will apply 22/09/2013

what are known as fundas to their bulls. These are covers wrapped around the horns to protect them and they are one of the most controversial topics in the industry today. They serve to simultaneously reduce the chances of horns splitting and the risk of fatal injuries as bulls fight one another on the farm, but many argue that they affect the growth of the horn, or if applied when already fully grown, change the size and shape of the bulls defences, so that when they are removed his charge is off and he is unable to use them correctly. Traditionalists believe that fighting bulls, ideally, should be treated as wild and not farm animals. The Peraltas are of this school; although Rafael is not sure whether the funda really does change the bulls charge, his, along with most
13

Cerrillo, A. El nmero de corridas en Espaa descendi un 41% del 2007 al 2011 La Vanguardia, La Vanguardia, 10.02.13 Web. (accessed 13.09.13)

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other older ranches, choose not to use them and take the risk of having some of their herd rejected. Many do not have this luxury and see horn-protection as the only way to ensure their survival; but that is perhaps an inevitable effect of an audience which is growing smaller, but simultaneously more demanding. The average aficionado of today is wiser, according to Don Jos Luis Bote Romo, maestro at the Madrid School of Tauromachy, and tends to focus much more on the artistic quality of the torero than on the violence compared to the pre-20th century fan. As mentioned above, if a picador shows too much aggression to the bull, he is booed. In his book Death and Money in the Afternoon, Adrian Shubert describes how the bull was once judged on the amount of pics he had taken. One particular bull, Peregrino, gained notoriety for having killed 11 horses (horses were not protected until 1930) and another, Campanero, for taking 16 pics 14. The modern corrida evolved from lancing bulls on horseback, as a way for the cavalry to practice their horsemanship on a live enemy; King Carlos I (1500-1588) finding the exercise a wonderful form of training in order to conserve agility and vigour in times of peace. Thus, the picador was once the main figure in the ring, which is why he is still allowed to wear a suit with gold trim, like the matadors, whilst the banderilleros suits are adorned with silver. This event was naturally much more hunt-like and that atmosphere lingered on for some time after the footmen had taken over as the lead performers. Although there have always been artistic aficionados, it seems to be at the turn of the 20th century that the corrida first began to become the emotionally charged spectacle it is today. The matador Pepe Hilo had written a guide to the Art of Tauromachy in the 18th century, but this is very much a pre-romantic, Golden-Age definition of art, a study of technique and craft; doubtless a shift away from the hunt towards aestheticism, but without the emotion that people such as the legendary Juan Belmonte would bring in the early 1900s. Belmonte trained as a boy with his friends by breaking onto farms under cover of darkness and caping bulls by moonlight. When he began to face bulls in public, he captivated audiences by bringing the creature closer than anybody had ever done before, turning the corrida into what can only accurately be described as a dance, and he did so with complete disregard for his own safety. People no longer wanted to see a big bull killed, they wanted it killed well. It was then that poets began to pay attention to toreo once again; it had been exalted in the Spanish Golden Age with sonnets and ballads by the likes of Francisco Quevedo and Gabriel Bcangel, but these praised only the valiance and honour of certain noblemen and hark more of the ballads of El Cid than of expressions of genuine emotion. The majority of Spains most respected poets at the turn of the 19th century, known as the Generation of 98, had rejected the corrida, seeing it as a sign of old, regressive Spain, Joaqun Costa saying we must lock and double-lock the sepulchre of El Cid... we will swap glory for progress and battleships for schools; the country did not need the blood of heroes and martyrs so much as sang -froid, brains, self-control, mutual goodwill, and, above all, enough to eat. That was the cry of the generation who saw their nations humiliating defeat in the Spanish-American war, marking the end of an Empire which had once been the richest in the world. But thirty years on, the generacin de 27 sought to unite the cultured and the popular aspects of Spanish art and many looked upon the corrida more favourably than Costa and Antonio Machado: they had grown up with the new style of toreo, emblemised by Belmonte and Joselito; the bulls were no longer a mere spectacle, they were cathartic drama, and so writers such as Ramn del Valle-Incln and Federico Garca Lorca began to evoke the fiesta in their works, the latter writing Lament for Ignacio Snchez Mejas when the matador was killed in the ring, which is the second most important elegy in the Spanish language after Jorge Manriques Verses upon the Death of his Father in the fifteenth century, lines of which are to Spaniards what To be or not to be is to the English. And so audiences demand art and quality now more than ever, particularly with the work of groups such as Rafael Peraltas, for fans know what they are looking for (a dance rather than a hunt, which demands more of both particpants) and what they are getting. Although the numbers of people attending corridas is falling, those who do go are becoming more and more knowledgeable and demand both good bulls and pure toreo, a performance unadorned by tricks, carried out with both technical brilliance and emotion. Peralta is able to provide the bulls and continue to improve audiences with the courses he runs, but it is in Madrid where I see those who will go on to face them professionally formed.
14

Shubert, A, Death and Money in the Afternoon: A History of the Spanish Bullfight (New York; Oxford: OUP, 1999) p.41

11

Madrid
School of toreros; Madrid in August

A finished suit of lights at the Fermn Tailors of Madrid; the most renowned suit makers in the torero world. Before I visited the school, I was received by the maestro, Don Antonio Lpez and by French designer, Romain Mittica. The latter gave me a tour of the workshop. They were currently creating Juan Bautistas suit for his upcoming appearance in Arles, at a corrida I would be attending (pictured right). As I left, Don Antonio was with a client explaining how to clean blood stains from a suit. 23/08/13

In the countryside on the outskirts of the capital there is a small plot of fenced-off land where the grass is yellowed and overgrown. Within the complex there is a bullring, a squat office building and a high roofed gymnasium, which offers slight relief from the sun. Inside, a group of twenty or so teenage boys hone their skills with capes and swords, working in pairs and taking it in turns to be the bull, charging each other holding a pair of horns. They all wear sports clothes and everybody in the room is dripping with sweat, aside from one man; retired killer of bulls, don Jos Luis Bote Romo. He is a product of what was then a very new school and, despite suffering several horrific gorings, including one which kept him away from the ring for two years, he was able to forge a successful career as a matador in Spain and South America. The students here are the older, more experienced pupils who train every day; there are no classes in August and so the younger ones have the month off. Don Jos tells me that the school accepts boys and girls as young as twelve. He introduces me to Carlos and Javier who have both been at the school for two years and they demonstrate the staple passes of toreo for me: Vernicas, performed with the pink and yellow cape, so named because the torero draws the cape just before the muzzle of the bull in a fashion similar to Saint Veronica wiping the face of Christ as he carried the cross, and derechazos, or naturales, if performed with the left hand, which are done with the smaller, red cloth15*. Don Jos explains that these passes are the most respected and are seen as the cornerstones of the craft because of their length; they require the man to hold his posture for a long time as the entire body of the bull passes completely and safely by him; always near to, but not quite reaching, the cape. Carlos tells me that toreo is something you carry deep inside. This is the closest he can get to an explanation of why he comes here almost every day of the year to train and why he is prepared to kill and risk being killed for something which, for most students, will unfortunately never be more than a mere hobby. Some pupils I meet here and a few weeks later at a similar school in Arles, France became toreros on a whim; it was something they
15*

For detailed descriptions of the different passes see either the glossary to Hemingways Death in the Afternoon or Alexander Fiske-Harrisons Into the Arena: The World of the Spanish Bullfight.

12

saw and wanted to try, but for Carlos it is in his veins. His father was a torero and he has grown up watching bulls in both the country and in the ring, and in his performance I see a glimpse of what he means by carrying this passion inside; although the bull is played by Javier, his friend of many years, in his eyes I can see that for him, he is passing a real bull. He, I am told, gives much to the bull; he stands face on rather than in profile, offering his body. He shouts to summon it; his eyes never leaving the horns as he stands, hips thrust forwards, shoulders relaxed, and he does not break character until the series of passes are over and the bull is safely away. Javier then tells me its my t urn. After I string together a few clumsy passes he and Javier go in search of banderillas and show me around the site. I ask them what other people their age think of what they do; Carlos tells me most people at school, although they have little interest in the corrida, respect what he does, but there are a few who call him an asesino; murderer16*. He also tells me that the date has now been decided for his first kill: it will be on Monday 16th September17*. I ask him how he feels about it, nervous, he laughs. Although he has caped cattle many times, the kill is the most dangerous part of the corrida and the only one for which there is no dress rehearsal; the students can practise only on a bulls head mounted onto a trolley and it is impossible to prepare for the unpredictability of the live animal who, if he lifts his head at any point as the matador places the sword, will tear deep through his flesh and muscle. Carlos tells me valour will come from conquering his fear. He is fifteen years old. When they have finished training I take the opportunity to speak with a pair of older pupils, one of whom who kills 1-2 year old male calves, called becerros, and the other a killer of 3 year old males, novillos. They are surprisingly pragmatic about what they do and are more keen to talk to me about Real Madrids then potential signing of my fellow countryman Gareth Bale than what they thought at the moment of truth of the corrida. They claim to feel very little as they placed the sword; their entire focus being on placing it correctly. This is the most difficult part of the ordeal, as the cape is held low and directly before the man and he must place the sword with nothing between his upper body and the horns, being careful not to hit bone and have the sword spring out. He must then use his momentum to swing around the side of the bull to safety. A lack of emotion is understandable in the face of this. Even after the animal has dropped they do not claim to feel anything like the sadness I have read of other matadors experiencing; Francisco Rivera Ordoez says that each bull he has killed is a part of him and that he remembers them all. A student in France will tell me he has killed somewhere between twenty and twenty-five young bulls. Although Rafael Peralta had said he did not think it necessary to have antecedents in the world to become a torero, I do wonder if perhaps this attitude is a product of the growing school system, for the idea of a school of tauromachy is relatively recent. The horseback toreros of old, the only ones it is acceptable to call toreadors, would have trained in a Royal Cavalry Armoury and in the more recent past, the industry tended to be much more closed and inwards; the craft passed on through families and friends, or at least communities where bull culture is the common bond. Ordoez comes from thoroughbred torero stock, stretching back to his Great Grandfather and as such, a reverential respect for bulls is ingrained deep within him. There are, of course, many highly successful matadors who are not from such families and who have great respect for bulls, but as is described in Juan Belmontes biography, the struggle was much greater in the past if one didnt have friends in the business and Belmonte, at least, came from a community where everybody knew somebody who knew somebody in the industry. Such a struggle would inevitably weed out those who did not have the heart required to torear. Perhaps this will be the decisive factor as todays students try to ply their trade across the peninsula. Don Jos agrees that you must carry something special inside: some students have it and others do not and he tells me that they can teach only the techniques here. The school and the local government will support the pupils; subsidising the cost so that anybody between the ages of 12 and 18 who wishes to enrol must pay only 3 euros per month, but the rest comes down to skill, respect for the bull and, more than anything else, Don Jos says, luck. The sign which hangs above the students as they train serves as a constant reminder of this: To make it in the world of toreo is almost a miracle. For he who does, the bull can take his life, but never his glory.
16* 17*

Matador means killer, asesino means murderer; only the latter is pejorative in this world. He cut both ears and the tail.

13

Meeting the students and hearing the passion with which some of them spoke of what they do reinvigorated me and helped to restore my faith in the potential of the corrida, which had been gravely weakened the afternoon before at the corrida I attended in the worlds most important bullring, Madrids Las Ventas. Madrid in August has probably done more for the anti-bullfighting movement than any animal rights organisation. The arena is no more than a quarter full and almost every spectator was a tourist, the locals having fled the unbearable heat of the city for the summer, and many visitors, not really knowing what the corrida is, are keen to see a nice fair fight. The owners are well aware that the arena is likely to be bereft of knowing aficionados during the summer and so the bulls are cheap and, often, difficult to work with. Newspaper reports the day after the corrida I attend say the toreros worked well technically, discussing subtleties I do not yet have the experience to notice. As for me, two thirds of the corrida are agonising to watch: of the three matadors, only Paco Urea manages to transmit emotion and kill well, whilst Javier Sols and Ivan Garca both fail with the sword and deliver slow, ugly deaths. The unknowing audience do not help matters; failing to pay both man and bull the respect the fiesta demands; they laugh at the men taking cover behind the wooden panels and some laugh when Garcas first bull is dying, because in his struggle he has caught one of the capes with his horn and has flung it across his back and head. There was no dignity and no sense in the killing. All context was removed and the event became an absurd ritual killing. Although it is against the law to enter or leave an arena whilst a bull is alive on the sand, as the afternoons fo urth bull is pic-ed, around forty spectators decide they had seen enough and file past me towards the exit. If this had been my first and only exposure to the corrida, I would probably have joined them. The last bull had refused to drop. After several attempts with the reserve sword, known as the descabello, which is used to sever the spinal cord when the head is down, the bull lowered to the ground. The dagger man is then, if necessary, tasked with providing what is supposed to be a coup-degrace to the bull. But after about five of these blows of mercy, he rises to his feet again. He stumbles slowly, the other toreros go to wave Ivan Garca (lilac and gold) embraces Paco Urea before handing him the sword. Urea is confirming his matador status. Javier Sols their capes on either side of him with the witnesses. Whilst this rite of passage took place, two other toreros intention of turning his head so that the sword tried to hold the bulls attention from behind a wooden panel on the will begin to cut him up inside, providing a other side of the ring, although he threatened to interrupt the quicker death, but the matador stops them, as ceremony several times. 25/08/2013 there was no blade in him to cut and he was clearly close to death. Eventually he fell. Even though I had begun to accept the view that the corrida was nowhere near as cruel or damaging as what happens in the meat industry, due to the treatment during life (and often slaughter) it is still very painful to watch a bull killed like this18*. Coming from a nation of animal lovers, we eat over 900 million of them a year, my sensibilities are not tuned to seeing real, violent death. The problem I believe many, including myself for a time, face with the corrida is that it shows the animal as just that; an animal with a will to live. We are accustomed to seeing slices, cuts, joints of meat which do not resemble a creature in the slightest, or we go too
18

Into the Arena covers the ethics of the corrida very well, as does Sue Cross article for the Huffington Post, Blood Sports or Factory Farming? Which Is the Crueller? A Case for the Vegan Option Continued. She is both vegan and anti-corrida.

14

far the other way, we anthropomorphise the creatures we do not send to slaughter; treating pets like children, dressing dogs in human clothes and projecting our expectations onto them. Of course, the aficionado projects their expectations onto a bull too; you can have ones that are good, bad, brave, noble, tame, easily-distracted, treacherous etc. In reality, the bull seeks only to defend himself from danger (it was one of Spains most respected matadors, Enrique Ponce, who said, if the bull could speak, he would say leave me in peace!) but by placing him in the ring he is at least able to exhibit a power and beauty which is very much natural. Whether you will see him shine or whether he will be butchered is impossible to foretell. By buying good bulls from respected farms, a ring owner can reduce the chances of the latter (with a bad bull, even the best matadors may not be able to do anything more than kill it quickly) but as he is a wild, unpredictable animal, who has never met a cape-carrying man before, one never can be sure until both are on the sand. Madrid is the corrida laid bare, stripped of all artistry. Whereas many other art forms are popularly judged on how closely they emulate reality, the corrida must try to do the opposite: whilst never forgetting the supreme sacrifice being made, the beauty and the narrative must outweigh the vulgarity of the foundation, which is simple killing. This is something only Paco Urea manages to achieve. He capes and kills passionately and continues to bring both of his bulls, the first particularly, who begins to charge very straight after facing the picador, closer and closer to his body, whilst his feet remain anchored to the ground; wrapping the bull around him, bloodying the front of his glittering suit. This is one of the most important days in his career, as he confirms his alternative . Paco Urea had become a qualified Killer of bulls (able to face fully grown 4-5 year olds) in his home town of Lorca in 2006. This is called taking the alternative and involves a ceremony in which the most experienced matador on the billing bestows his sword upon the matador-to-be and allows him to kill the first bull of the afternoon, which, in a regular corrida, is taken by the most senior matador. However, as different rings have varying reputations and standards, this ceremony must eventually be confirmed, although many matadors trade for years without confirmation, as Urea has, and this is done by repeating the ritual in one of three places; Mexico City, Bogota, or Madrid. As unpleasant as the rest of the corrida was, Ureas performance is the one which remains with me now. I remember the poor kills too and they played heavily on my mind for a long time, but with distance and more experience I have realised that these are anomalous. Quantitatively speaking, this is much less common than the badly stunned cow. Just because this happened before my eyes rather than being hidden in a meat factory, it is no worse. Nonetheless, when one sees and confronts it, it is very difficult to digest.
A novillero brings the bull onto the horse at a later event in Las Ventas, Madrid. Note the concentric circles drawn into the sand. The picador must wait for the bull to come to him outside the larger of the two. He will try to lure the animal by moving the horse, but fans will whistle in complaint if he crosses the line. Photo by Ellyn O'Byrne. 22/09/13

15

Salamanca and Laguna de Duero

To Kill Receiving; the Horseback Corrida

North-West in Castilla y Len, meaning is put back into the corrida. This region is home to Spains oldest functioning bull farm, the Rasa del Portillo, whose bulls I will see in a horseback corrida in a town just south of Valladolid, and so the region has a claim, as do several others, to being the true home of the corrida. I see bulls in Salamanca, where I sit amongst a respectful audience; one which demands much of the performer before requesting trophies and calls for silence when the time comes to kill. Although the bulls are not of particularly high-quality, the toreros are able to work with them, and there is sense given to their death by the context of the crowd and everybody on the sand, which results in a redemptive afternoon. This is also the first and only time I see somebody kill receiving the bull. Just as the picador cannot charge the bull and must wait outside the larger of the two concentric circles drawn in the sand for the animal to invite his punishment, the traditional way to kill a bull was by receiving him. The matador would plant his feet firmly in the ground, cite with the sword and summon the animal. The bull charges and impales himself on the blade and, effectively, kills himself. The danger of this method has all but done away with it and matadors now almost always kill on flying feet, meaning that the man runs at the bull. It is aspects like this which make me question whether the corrida might be gradually growing away from the pure tragedy it once apparently was; for the receiving kill allows the hero to die as a direct result of his flaw; the noble, but ultimately suicidal, need to charge. The five other bulls of the afternoon have their aggression exploited to weaken them, to create the dance with the capes, but they are killed with a method that was originally invented to deal with bulls who were too tired to charge; making matador agent and bull merely passive recipient: victim. However, although the purity of the tragedy is perhaps compromised, this does not necessarily diminish the artistry of the corrida, as long as the matador is able to convey the danger which does still accompany all killing. Arguing that there was art in the corrida, dramatist Valle-Incln theorised that without substantial risk of death to the man, there would be no tragedy and consequently no more fiesta. He describes how Juan Belmonte is able to project this risk through his performance, and is thus exciting and able to create tragedy. Meanwhile, Belmontes rival, the technically brilliant Joselito, will tire audiences for he deadens the r isk with his mathematical precision. Eight days after his twenty-fifth birthday, Joselito was gored and killed in the bullring of Talavera de la Reina. The danger is always there, but is of no value in itself; it is the perception of the danger which counts. Even though goring is no less common, the chances of the torero dying in the ring are much smaller than they once were. This is due mainly to medical advances, but nonetheless, the risk of fatality is still present and, as long as the corrida maintains its current structure, always will be. The toreros job is to maximise the apparent potential for this; a toreros death or a horrific goring, such as that of Juan Jos Padilla in 2011, serve as coarse reminders to the public of the gravity of the corrida, but true art can convey such things symbolically. Although both must exist for the corrida to continue, in terms of the risk of fatality to the matador at least, representation has begun to outweigh reality. This is not the case, I feel, with the horseback corrida. I cannot claim that what I saw in Laguna de Duero, a small town just south of Valladolid in the North-Western region of Castile-y-Leon, is representative of the field as a whole or of it at its best: for the ring is third category (there are only three categories) and the performers are unrated. However, this experience does allow me to witness the nature of the event from which the modern corrida on foot evolved. The horseback discipline, known as rejoneo, sees man and horse set against bull and seems to lack the intimacy of the other corridas I have seen and appears to be more hunt-like. For, although there is opposition and struggle in the corrida, aficionados see the two characters as dual protagonists rather than hero and villain. They will often describe it in terms of tragedy and dance, as have I. Obviously, to ignore all opposition and call bull and man actors or dance partners is to downplay the severity and gravity of the act, as, with the sacrifice, the corrida is much more than an art. However, seeing it done well, one realises why fight is also such an unacceptable translation, as it equally is for rejoneo, but there is, it seems, a greater sense of dualism present which engenders a degree of competition.

16

In the alleyway separating us from the sand, I discuss this with professional matador and guest-of-honour David Luguillano. He tells me that the horseback corrida has more of a party atmosphere compared to the serious tone of his corrida. Rafael Peralta had said something similar; he suggested that many people prefer the horseback event as the interplay appears to be between horse and bull, which can seem less cruel and coarse than the interaction between man and bull. As with all corridas, it begins with the parade, in which the three horsemen ride in, exhibiting their animals in a style not unlike that of dressage. They are followed by the toreros on foot; the men with the capes are reduced to their historical roles, there to protect the riders and keep the bull occupied between acts. The horses names are announced but, unlike the corridas I have seen before, there is no information on the bull, who plays the role of aggressor and enemy, pursuing the horse around the ring. I reiterate that this is not representative of the discipline; there is typically information given about the bull. The equestrian skill is dazzling; and these creatures seem a different species to the picadors blindfolded horse, who is little more than a wall for the bull to charge against. These horses are able to show their character as the riders control them, dextrously moving them before the bull, as if they were capes, I am told. The rider circles the ring with the bulls horns just inches from the flank of the horse, who trots sideways. The rider holds a spear which he places in the bulls hide, the small blade on the tip detaches from the shaft and sticks into the bull, revealing a flag which the rider holds down at the horses side. This becomes the bulls new target and the chase continues. The bull eventually gives up and man and horse turn triumphantly away and ride over to the alley to take another flag from his sword handler: this man scuttled past me many times that afternoon with an assortment of bloodied flags, spears and daggers. In the next act, for which the performer might change horses, he places little flags, banderillas; identical to those used in the regular corrida. They can be placed in different ways, but, as with everything done to the bull here, it can only be done when the bull is charging. Several banderillas are placed and then it is time for the short banderillas or, alternatively, roses might be placed, which bring the same punishment, but are decorated with a rose rather than a coloured stick. The final blow then comes from the rejn. It is a flat, broad blade which must be placed centrally and vertically. Several times in the afternoon it is not and the man beside me, who is guiding me through the event (who I am later told is the Mayor of Laguna de Duero) shakes his head and tells me that these are bad kills, despite the fact that the bulls killed in this way die more quickly. It is a question of the most important knightly characteristic: honour. A quick kill does not necessarily mean a good kill. It is a question of how it is done; nothing can be done to the bull unless he is already charging and the blade must be placed where the risk to the killer is greatest, making man and horse hero. This elevates it above the hunt to a certain extent as risk is voluntarily increased, but nonetheless, although the bull is appreciated (the first bull keeps his mouth closed throughout the ordeal, which the mayor tells me is a sign of bravery) he does not appear to carry the valour, honour and heroism for which he is revered in the corrida on foot. The third bull, I am told, is distracted. He looks around at the noisy crowd rather than the horse, whom he is reluctant to charge. The first flag attracts his attention; he turns like a dog chasing his tail to find the pain and then bucks like an American rodeo bull. I imagine another audience would protest for a change of bulls, for a substitute is always brought to the ring, but using him is an expensive decision. Here that does not happen. One of the rings accountants tells me how difficult it has become to make money running such an arena , you must do a lot of maths, he laughs. Here, the council supports the plaza, but in bigger rings, the payment goes the other way. As the quantities of money changing hands at these first class rings is much greater and tickets bought at all rings are taxed, it is believed that the state does actually make a profit from the bulls, despite the subventions it provides. This is, of course, refuted by those who oppose the corrida and accurate statistics on the net profit/loss of the bulls are very difficult to find, given that the money comes from different government sectors and that the bulls also generate lots of income indirectly.

17

But here in Laguna de Duero, the entire sun side is empty and were it not for the help of the state, this ring would surely close. This is something that Spains leading political party have made very clear they do not want to happen. I was in Catalonia, where the corrida was banned in 2010, at a key moment for the taurine industry, as the Spanish Government discussed and debated a petition (known as a Popular Legislative Initiative, or ILP in Spanish) to officially name the corrida a Heritage of Cultural Interest (Bien de inters Cultural). The petition had gathered almost 600,000 signatures from concerned aficionados across Spain hoping to ensure greater protection for the tradition, which was enough to see it admitted and discussed in Parliament, and it was suggested at that time that, if passed, it might even be used to invalidate the law of prohibition passed in the north-eastern region of Catalonia.

In the tunnel before the corrida de rejones in Laguna de Duero. I was fortunate enough to watch this corrida from the alleyway which runs around the ring with an expert guide: I was later told he was the Mayor of the town. 10/09/13

Rejoneador Mariano Rojo is pursued by the bull and prepares to place the first bandera (the blade is out of shot). The sun side of the ring is almost completely empty. 10/09/13

Rojo about to deliver the final blow with the rejn. The horses are unprotected. 10/09/13

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Barcelona
The Patchwork Bull Hide

Animal Rights lawyer Anna Mul, who wrote the law of prohibition in Catalonia, was not at all worried by these developments. When we met at a cafe in the centre of Barcelona, the wording of the pro-corrida petition had just been found to be illegal and thus was being rewritten. Therefore nobody could be certain as to what demands it would ultimately include, and whether or not it would be voted through in Parliament was another matter entirely. Nonetheless, she was certain that there was no way her ban would be overturned. The day after the 2010 prohibition for which Anna had worked was approved, newspapers across the world broke the story that the cruel tradition was finally over in Spains richest commun ity, but newspapers within the country had a different angle. The ban had nothing to do with animal rights and was in truth an attempt by separatists to distance Catalonia from the rest of Spain. Some of Spains most well-known newspapers, including ABC and El Mundo, had declared their support for the bulls when the initial petition against the corrida (which was also an ILP, but petitioning the regional rather than the national Government) began to gather steam. The ban and apparent threat to the future of the corrida resulting from it have reinvigorated the corrida-friendly press and the taurine lobbies, who have taken action to protect and promote it in other parts of the country and, they hope, bring the bulls back to Catalonia. The serious campaigns threatening to undo Annas work are the above mentioned counter-petition with 600,000 signatures and an objection made to the Constitutional Tribunal by Spains leading party about the legality of the ban. Anna denies the backlash resulting from the regional ban has damaged the chances of attaining her and her fellow campaigners ultimate goal, which is the complete eradication of the corrida. She sees the Catalan ban as the first triumph and refutes the argument that it was politically minded, instead telling me that it was simply the natural progression to a series of previous laws passed in the autonomous community since the fall of Franco aimed at bettering animal welfare, including the prohibition of the building of new rings and the celebration of corridas in portable rings; the ban of under 14s at corridas and a codicil to the wording of the law to acknowledge that bulls can suffer psychological as well as physical pain. Although Paco Piriz, President of the Catalan Union of Taurinos and Aficionados, whom I meet outside the dusty, museum-of-a-bullring La Monumental, Barcelona, sees these laws as proof that the Catalan government has for years been trying to weaken support so as to facilitate the ban. He tells me that it became difficult to advertise events and that the ring owner was fined for putting up a sign up on the outside of the venue where the corrida was to take place. This, combined with the difficulty of kindling new interest due to the under-14s ban, he claims, gave the appearance that the bulls did not belong to Catalonia, despite the fact that the La Monumental had once been the most important bullring in Spain. However, it was the most important ring during the days of General Francos dictatorship, when Spanish or, more accurately, Castilian and Andalusian, identity was forced onto the entire nation. The Catalan language was banned along with many regional, non-Spanish traditions, and all autonomous power was lost: political instruction came from Madrid. So, when King Juan-Carlos succeeded Franco and the transition to democracy began in the 1970s, after thirty-six years of repression, people began to take issue with the corridas nickname, The National Fiesta (which was first used long before the Civil War). For hundreds of years bull games had been practised across much of the Iberian peninsula, known as the piel de toro or bull-hide because of its shape, but as Henry Kamen has indicated, pointing to the works of philosopher and statesman Gaspar Melchor de Jovellanos, by the middle of the 18th century, aficin was to be found in many regions, but could by no means be considered national19.

19

Kamen, H Los Toros desde el Siglo de Oro El Cultural, El Cultural, 08.06.12 Web. (accessed 25.10.2013)

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As proof of the political nature of the abolition, Paco and the Union point to the fact that the Catalan petition did not call for a ban on correbous. This term translates as bull runs, but encompasses a range of popular festivals with bulls in the street, many of which are generally accepted to be just as cruel, if not more cruel, than the corrida itself. Anna tells me that public awareness of the correbous was low when the petition was drafted and so they were excluded in the fear that fewer people would have signed seeing something they do not recognise, thus jeopardizing their chances of A map of the 'bull hide' composed of the nation's regional flags. Catalonia is marked with horizontal red and yellow stripes. Photo copyright free. success. Piriz, who dislikes bull-inthe-street festivals, disagrees and says they have always been popular in Southern Catalonia, in places such as Tarragona. He agrees that they would have jeopardized the bans chances; not because people didnt know what they were, but because these festivals are markedly Catalan and not Spanish. One can still see a bull have his horns set alight in Catalonia, pulled through the streets by ropes tied to his horns, or forced to run into the sea. Such festivals have been banned in several other regions of Spain, but here, when the law was under development, the CiU (Convergence and Union, a moderate Catalan Nationalist Party) argued that they [the correbous] come from our deepest roots; they come from our country, Catalua and so should not be included in any law passed20. Anna tells me they are currently working on a plan to abolish these events, but does not see it happening in the near future. In her case, and that of the founders of PROU (Catalan for enough) which is the organisation which first began the campaign, there is no doubt that the entire issue is one of animal rights. She saw a corrida at the age of six and cried so much that her family had to tell her the bull wasnt real, but the overwhelming belief amongst taurinos is that the move was later hijacked by separatists when the time came for the vote. Following the lead of Catalonia, the North-Western region of Galicia held a vote earlier this year on the future of the corrida. They suffered the same injustices under Franco, but here, more than Catalonia, the corrida has never belonged. The Galicians identify themselves as Celts rather than Iberians; their countryside is green and hilly like Wales and their fiesta music is marked by the bagpipe rather than the guitar. Those most insistently calling for the ban were the Galician Nationalist Bloc (BNG) but, as the Peoples Party (PP), Spains equivalent of the Conservative Party, currently hold a majority in the parliament and did not allow a free vote on the issue, the proposal failed. Anna assures me they will try again and that if the BNG take power in the next elections, which currently seems likely, she has no doubt that the ban will go through. To those outside Spain, the news of the ban in Catalonia sounded a death knell for the industry and I admit that, before I began to research the corrida, I had assumed that Barcelonas ban would mark the beginning of the end. But, even though many people will have lost money and jobs from the ban, if history is anything to go by, it poses no great threat to the future of the bulls. For people have been trying to ban the corrida for hundreds of years, although it is only recently that this has been done in the name of animal welfare. Pope Pius V tried to prohibit the practice in 1567, believing it endangered the souls of those who took part, and a popular argument in the slightly more recent past was that the corrida was not economically viable, as in the many years that a

20

De Haro de San Mateo, V La respuesta de la prensa espaola ante la Iniciativa Legislativa Popular Prensa, Cultura y Sociedad PILAR, 2011 pdf. (accessed 30.10.2013)

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bull grazes, two or three generations of cows could be raised 21 (something which would probably be used as a defence of it today). The corrida has always worked around attempted bans. Since returning from Spain, the government has declared the corrida a part of the Immaterial Cultural Heritage of Spain, but not, as the petition had originally called for a Heritage of Cultural Interest. The move is more symbolic than practical and will not, as originally proposed, have the power to overturn the ban in Catalonia or prevent other bans in the future, but in light of this the Government must now work to gain recognition and protection from UNESCO and the declaration sends a clear message about Madrids feelings on the corrida. Throughout my journey people have told me about the Two Spains; a phrase coined by the poet Antonio Machado about the sad state of the nation: there is one Spain yawning, and another dying, he wrote, but it is now used to describe what Hispanist JB Trend calls the most deep rooted of all Spanish traditions; political separatism22. However, to say there are two Spains is a gross understatement: George Orwells Homage to Catalonia shows that the Civil War was not a simple case of Fascists against Republicans; the Republicans comprised of any individual or group which was anti-fascist, an assortment of ideologies temporarily cobbled together for a common good. This tendency stretches all the way back to the first days of what we now call Spain; Trend describes the ancient community councils, known as fueros of the peninsula, and speaks of a people whose gift for local self-government has been proved again and again in its history, and frustrated again and again by an incompetent central authorit y23. They have united o ut of convenience to form many Spains: the Iberians and the Celts, The Cantabrians and the Pyreneans, the latter becoming the Catalan and Aragonese, uniting against Asturias and Castile. A Castilian later inherited the Kingdom of Aragon; his grandson, King Ferdinand II, married Isabella I of Castile, creating the pact that would allow for the eventual unification of Spain after the Moors were expelled. This bull-hide was patched together, born of convenience and the promise of wealth, but the seams are now strained and the corrida has found itself in the centre of the tension, not just on geographical borders, but on social ones.

A bull with his horns covered in a street festival in Arles. He trots around the track several times with no runners before retreating to the street where he was unloaded. Some people approach him but he offers little threat. 06/09/13

21 22

Shubert, p.152 Trend, JB The Civilisation of Spain (London: OUP, 1944) p.11 23 Ibid., p.193

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San Sebastin de Los Reyes

Bulls in the Street

Detractors of the fiesta hold hope that, even if prohibition does not come, the corrida will become extinct before long due to an apparent lack of interest amongst young Spaniards. A common criticism is that bull culture is anachronistic and that, in a nation becoming ever more modern and Europeanised, growing ever further from the rustic, coarse land described by Laurie Lee, the bulls have no place. In San Sebastin de Los Reyes, or Sanse, a town thirty minutes north of Madrid by train, this seems to be the case in terms of the corrida; I visit the town for their annual August festival and meet with friends who seem to see the bullring as a sign of old, right-wing Spain. There is a reasonable number who do go; the Twitter account of Juventud Taurina (Taurine Youth) has over 15 000 followers, but football is by far the most popular spectacle. However, pictures and videos of historic corridas show that there has never been a large youth attendance at the ring. The fact that the majority of Spanish adolescents stay away is, I believe, not hugely telling of its current situation; It has always been the case that adults go, taking their children (it was illegal for children to enter in Francos era, but the law was rarely, if ever, enforced) and perhaps planting the seed of aficin which, although often ignored in adolescence, understandable given that a good seat will often cost upwards of 30, may grow in early adulthood. The potential aficin is nonetheless kept kindling by many other bull related events. Although the corrida is the most emblematic of taurine activities, it is by no means the only one and it is certainly not always the most popular. When I am in Laguna de Duero, I am told that what fills the ring is the bloodless acrobatic corrida, known as corrida de recortes. This is much more sport like and the performers, who are in competition with one another, use athletic and acrobatic skill to dodge or jump over the charging bull. It takes its name from the recorte, the main weapon in the athletes armoury; he cuts across the charge of the bull and, at the moment their paths cross, creates a C shape with his body, leaning back and passing the horns unharmed. There is no deceit; the man is the cape and is not trying to trick the bull as the torero does. Part of the reason that the younger generations find these events so much more appealing than the corrida de toros is because they cost only a fraction of the price, but also, they are much easier to watch; they lack the gravity and sombreness of the festival of death, whilst maintaining the excitement of the danger. It is this which also drives droves of young people every year, not just from Spain but from all over the world, to take part in bull runs. There are runs all across Spain, but the most iconic is that of Pamplona. Made famous by Ernest Hemingway in his 1926 novel The Sun Also Rises, this festival has grown bigger every year since and so for one week every July the capital city of Navarre becomes bloated with visitors, many of whom are there for the alcohol as much as the bulls. Tourist money has meant that the picturesque old town has been crystallised and the bulls can still run on the famous cobbles, but, with the sheer volume of runners taking part, many of whom lack both experience and sobriety, it appears to have become, according to the pictures and reports published shortly before my arrival in Spain, morbidly dangerous. I wanted to experience the run, but not there; instead I would go to Little Pamplona (Pamplona Chica). That is the nickname given to the bull runs of Sanse, a tradition begun within thirty years of the towns foundation in 1492. The bulls are no less deadly, but the people certainly are. This is not a tourist attraction and they do not want it to be. Without the tourists, little of the old town has been preserved. Here, the bulls run on asphalt and the people wear sports gear rather than the famous red and white of Pamplona. I walk to the route of the run with Alberto, a friend of a friend from University. After I have explained my research to him, he pauses for a moment and then tells me he thinks he might be a little anti-corrida. We then climb through the barriers and onto the track. This is the heart of bull country; it is simply a part of life. For Alberto and his friends, as well as being sanguine and cruel, the corrida represents right-wing, Spanish nationalism, as I mentioned above, but the run and the following event, which is an amateur caping of cows and bulls in the ring, are viewed as harmless fiesta activities. He has no intention of getting close to the animals and so runs from the final stretch of track, far from where the bulls are released, the nickname of which I do not wish to provide. His friends and I will also run from there

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tomorrow after trasnochando (the Spanish have a handy verb for staying out all night); it is for those who do not want to take part in the run, but do want to get into the arena for free to watch the capea, or caping, an amateur spectacle which follows the event. On the first day, I have to pay to enter, having jumped out of the track as the bulls pass me. As we wait before the run, I slowly drift closer to the bend from where the bulls will appear, choosing to stand with a group of middle-aged men who are limbering up and who look more confident than those further down the track. The firework goes to announce the release of the bulls and the first runners appear. I know to wait; I hold on and begin to wish I had gone with Alberto. The crowd running by me thickens, I eventually cave and join them, quickly accelerating even though as of yet there is no sign of a bull behind me. I stay close to the fences and look over my shoulder every couple of strides, but all I can see are people. I look forwards and continue. Suddenly I hear a clanging noise and realise I havent looked behind me for a few seconds; it is the bells of the steers, I open up into a sprint and see a mass of black parting the crowd behind me to my left. A few moments later I have had enough and I clamber between the fence panels out of the track and gradually regain my composure. When I reach the ring, the capea has already begun. This event is a chance for the public to enter the ring with a small cow or a bull and, before the schools were created, it was an opportunity for would-be-toreros to practise and exhibit their skills. However, those with dreams of turning professional almost always go through schools nowadays and on the first day I see that, in Sanse at least, the caping has become little more than a chance for the local boys to show off their bravery and impress their girlfriends who watch from the barrier. Some dodge the bull vaguely athletically, a few use their jackets as capes, but most simply run wide around the animal and vault over the wall if it begins to move in their direction. Others grab the horns from the safety of the barriers. It is very difficult to explain to Alberto and his friends how this, to me, feels crueller than a corrida. There is no blood, but there seems to be little value and even less valour in the caping: it is mere teasing. The bull-run I understand: it is a chance to get close, to smell and to feel the power of the bull. After running away from them, my respect for the matadors who, this evening, will stand still before these creatures and invite them to charge centimetres from their bodies has increased greatly, but I cannot appreciate the caping and the other bull festivals I see. In the town of Laguna de Duero I meet Jos and Diego, founders of www.artetaurino.es, one of the most popular, and one of the most frequently attacked, websites dedicated to bull festivals in the world. With them, I see the caping done slightly better; this happens

Just before making my escape in San Sebastin de los Reyes. This is a screenshot taken from Antena 3; a national television channel which broadcasts all six runs of the feria live at 8am. That night, Alberto points out a strange but, to him, familiar smell in the street and tells me it is tomorrows bulls in the corrals. 27/08/13

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after the midnight bull-run and more people perform with the bulls, including amateur acrobats, who dive and roll over them. Nonetheless, as visually impressive as this is, it flatters and dignifies only the people, not the cattle and seems a little garish, although part of the reason for that might be because one sector of the ring had been transformed into a disco with a live DJ for the evening. However, the ring was full, unlike at the afternoons horseback corrida. To cite lack of interest in the bulls amongst the young as an indicator of its doomed future is, therefore, a seriously flawed theory. There is huge interest in bulls, just not necessarily in killing them and it is the latter for which the animal is primarily bred. Were they ever to do bull-runs without the corrida, the only difference would be the route of the course; ending in the slaughterhouse rather than the bullring. For a bull can appear only once in Castile. According to Jos and Diego, even though they still practise the corrida, in certain respects the regions of Castile, where Sanse is located, and Castile-y-Len, where Laguna de Duero is, have better bull welfare regulation than Catalonia. As we watch the bulls go by from behind high metal bars, they explain to me that in Castile-y-Len and several other Spanish regions, the festivities must feature unbroken bulls,
A young man tries to attract the bull with his jacket at the midnight capea in Laguna de Duero, where Jos and Diego are filming for artetaurino.es. They apologise to me for the running which preceded this, as the bulls had refused to run. They blame the councilman charged with selecting the animals as he has picked the same ones two days in a row. I am told that last year bottles were thrown at his house for this. 11/09/13

called toros cerriles, whereas in regions including Catalonia and Valencia, they may use corralled bulls, or toros de corro. The difference is that the unbroken bulls are bought and the corralled ones are rented. In Castile, law insists that once a bull has left the farm, it can never return (unless pardoned, which I will discuss later). However much he suffers during a fiesta, and there are some vicious public bull games rejected even by many matadors and aficionados, he will, at least, have to face it for just one festival before being taken to the slaughterhouse, unless he is killed during the event, as is the case in some, such as the Toro de la Vega, in which a bull is hunted through a meadow by the citizens. The corralled, however, can be taken back to the farm, have any injuries treated and then be used again and again.

A man performs a 'recorte' in Sanse. The bull run ends in the ring. The runners jump over the barrier and find seats as the bulls are taken out of the ring. They will be killed in the evening. Other bulls and cows, unfit to face matadors, are used in the capea. The ring slowly warms up as the sun rises. After the capea, everybody goes home and sleeps, having spent the night celebrating in the streets. 28/08/13

I am reminded of an interview I had read with British matador Frank Evans in Catherine Toskos The Bull and the Ban, in which he pointed out that in the 150 years since the first activist group against the corrida was formed in Spain, abolitionists have not made a single change to the corrida. He lists the changes which have all come from within the industry: t he picadors horse has been protected since 1930, his lance has been altered to limit the depth the spear can penetrate and laws about the age of bulls in full corridas were altered long ago 24. In addition to this, in the 19th century, it was aficionados who successfully demanded that the setting of dogs on tame bulls be banned. Such changes are slow to happen with such a polarised situation; most animal-rights groups refuse to entertain the idea of reforms or of entering discussions with those inside the industry, and everything within this world is mired in tradition and so alterations always meet with strong opposition, slowing the process, at times to a halt.
24

Tosko, loc. 1567

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Arles
The International Corrida; Conclusion

I am optimistic and hopeful crossing the border into France; I have seen and felt the potential for pure, cathartic drama at corridas elsewhere, but feel that it is yet to be fully delivered. I have seen bulls pic-ed well, then caped badly, I had seen ugly pics, but banderillas placed creatively and I have seen close, slow cape work undone by lengthy kills. All of the parts were there, but not the whole; not the perfect bull aficionados had told me about, who is faced and killed so well that all the other terrible kills are justified. I hoped that this might come in the 2000 year old Roman amphitheatre of Arles. Although the Spanish corrida is without doubt facing difficult times, the bulls have gone from strength to strength in the south of France over recent years. The Arles School of Toreros attracts students from across the world, arguably the most important corrida of recent years took place in neighbouring Nmes in 2012 and in 2011 the corrida was declared part of Immaterial French Heritage, for a time technically making it better protected in the South of France, (it is only permitted where an unbroken tradition of it can be proved) than in its homeland. There have always been bull games played with the Camarguaise cattle from the surrounding wetlands, the most popular being the Course Camarguaise, in which competitors attempt to remove ribbons from between the bulls iconic upward-sweeping horns and so, when the Spanish corrida was introduced in the mid-19th century, it was readily accepted. Here, it carries no political sentiment or reminders of a shameful past; it has always been admired for what it was rather than what it might represent. I was invited to the arena two days before the weekends main corrida to see the students of the school open the festival. Three more experienced pupils killed three year old bulls whilst three twelve year old boys practised their capework on young cows. Before the performance, as I waited with them in the dim tunnel, the maestro had told me that these boys will not start to kill until they are fourteen. But on the sand they showed impressive bravery; one was knocked to the ground several times by a cow whose head was level with the boys (her horns projected safely sideways) but he returned to face her again and again. Two others made passes together; placing their capes side by side and calling the cow to charge between them. The older students work well, although most struggle at the moment of truth. However, this is understandable, firstly because they were just fifteen years old, but secondly, as there was no picador, the animals were not at all ready for death by the time the boys took their swords. They were tired, but the banderillas were not enough to lower them sufficiently for the sword to be placed well. Nonetheless, Rayan Bouchenafer and a Mexican, Andre Lagravre El Galo cut both ears from their animals and were carried on shoulders from the ring. In the dressing room, I spoke with Andre, sweating and jubilant, after the event. He did not carry the sadness in the face of killing, but he did carry the passion, telling me that to be alone in the field with a bull is like being at home. For people like El Galo and the many non-Spanish aficionados whom I have met, the bulls do not have a nation or a language; they are universal. That is why the corrida de toros is so difficult to translate; one can decipher a language, but not a mind-set. The English speaker tends to see sport and bloodlust, perhaps because of the vulgar bull-fight, whilst aficionados see love and respect. Just as with reading in another language, you cannot always appreciate it by transposing it into your own tongue.The fluent foreigner
Rayan Bouchenafer waits for his bull 'at the prison door' in tribute to alumnus of the school and now professional matador Mehdi Sadvalli, who arrived as we waited in the tunnel. It was easy to spot who was there to kill; I recall Bouchenafer nervously miming passes using his hat as a cape. 05/09/13

reads thinking in the language of the text, not by translating each word, and this is the same approach I must take with the corrida.

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At 5:30 in the afternoon on the second day of the festival, I see the amphitheatre in the daylight. The schools performance had taken place under floodlights, but now I see it transformed. This is a to be a Goyesque corrida, in which the toreros dress in costumes inspired by the paintings of 18th Century Spanish Romantic Francisco Goya and in Arles it is tradition to invite a designer to decorate the ring. This year it has been decorated by architect Rudy Ricciotti, who has created what he calls a declaration of love; covering the sand with thousands of red rose petals. A choir accompanies the brass band. The bill is impressive; featuring Enrique Ponce, El Juli, who I had seen in Mlaga, and local hero Jean Baptiste, who performs under the name Juan Bautista. The latter walks into the ring wearing a deep brown suit adorned with arching white trimmings. I had seen and felt his outfit when it was still under development at the House of Fermn in Madrid, the most renowned tailor of toreros in the world, where it had been designed by my friend, Romain Mittica. The suits offer no physical protection and, Romain told me, provide only psychological armour to the torero. The maestro of the house, don Antonio Lopez Fuentes, who designed Jos Toms suit for the most famous corrida of recent years in Nmes in which he faced six bulls, says that with his suits he seeks to make the matador feel like king for a day. Bautistas transformed him; I very briefly met him in a bar after the corrida and he appeared shy and embarrassed at being the centre of attention; unrecognisable from the dominating figure he had been just hours before. He is awarded both ears from both of his bulls by the president, for they are prepared well for the final third by the picadors and the banderilleros and the emotion of his work brings long stretches of silence to the crowd. He acts as if he is alone with the bull and kills both times with passion, not once looking away from the animal until he is dead. But it is El Juli who draws the finest bull of the afternoon. He is noble, charges straight, and is seemingly untirable. At first, he seems to lose his footing and skid at the end of charges, coming worryingly close to El Juli, who remains calm, slows down even more and apparently rectifies the fault. The bull begins to direct his focus better and El Juli calls him over from a distance with the pink cape, allowing him to accelerate and gather momentum. In the final third he goes for the cape as keenly as he did when he first entered the ring, just slightly slower and lower, allowing El Juli to give a master class in one of the canons of toreo: temple - the tempering of the bull. He must stop the bull, temper his charge, and then send him away. He holds the cape just before the animal, brings him in to charge and bends him around his body, always maintaining a small space between the bulls muzzle and the cloth, creating the illusion that he is controlling, even slowing the charge; that he is slowing time. That is why the corrida can never be considered a sport: sports work against the clock, whereas art creates its own time; and El Juli does this with a wild animal weighing 530 kg. There are limits to the acts and to the length of time a bull can be in the ring, but these are in the name of welfare and taste rather than competition. It is after he sends the bull away with a chest pass that the protests begin. The audience are asking for the bulls life to be spared.
Bautista practising before the Goyesque corrida in Arles, wearing the suit designed by Romain Mittica at the Fermn Tailors of Madrid. 07/09/13

Although the kill is still the moment of truth for a matador, the cape work is often equally talked-about amongst aficionados. Hemingway writes of the enormous, fierce bulls of the past, before he went to Spain, with whom the cape was little more than a method of protection and a way to tire the animal, preparing it for the dramatic climax: his death. The cape is still used for this purpose, but it has become more than that. This is where transcendence comes from as he creates beauty in the face of vulgarity. But with the focus of aficionados shifting away from the sacrifice to the aesthetic qualities, it is also here that the bull can earn his salvation.

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For exceptional valour and nobility an audience may ask the President to pardon the bull. If the President consents to the pardon, the animal will be healed and put out to stud, living the rest of his natural life in peace on the farm. Although this is not a new phenomenon, it appears that it is becoming gradually more common as years progress. It is still a very rare occurrence, but looking at the statistics of pardoned bulls at the Plaza Mxico, the worlds largest bullring, one can see that decade by decade the number of bulls who have escaped with their lives has steadily increased 25. Shubert describes the two types of fans at the nineteenth century corrida; those there for the blood, for something to watch, and the aesthetic lovers of bulls who asked for the throwing of fighting dogs into the arena to be prohibited. For whatever reason, tastes and sensibilities have changed over time and audiences now seem to comprise more than anything of lovers of bulls. There is, naturally, a practical reason for the pardon; it allows a farmer to introduce desirable genes into his herd, but the fact that audiences want to see this happen suggests that they are not there for the death. The corrida is in recession, but those who do go are more knowledgeable than ever, particularly with the great number of international aficionados who continue to flock to Spain. These people do not cross oceans just to watch idly and disinterestedly. The world has been forced to open up with recent threats, bringing about the Spanish Governments action and bringing aficionados ever closer to their passion. People now demand good, healthy bulls and know when they are not getting them. It has evolved with time and, to me at least, is not at all anachronistic in the 21st century, or if it is, then that is its chief virtue: in its current form it makes more sense than ever. It has, unfortunately, become caught up in politics; whether or not the Catalan ban was political, the narrative is so widely known as to tar the affair in the public eye. Being not as bad as the meat industry does not make the corrida forever right, but in our times it can be seen as an exemplary way of treating cattle. We are beyond simple dichotomies of right and wrong now and something can surely only be moral compared to the yardstick of the day and we must remember that it is not a question of whether it is wrong to kill a living being, but instead, whether it is wrong to create a living being in order to kill it. With this bull I begin to understand and on an afternoon such as this it is no more wrong than theatre; the price is high, but the reward is also. However, we have moved on from the pure tragedy of the past; the corrida still needs death and always will, but the bulls tragic flaw, if truly noble, no longer has to be his hubris. The sun is a long way from setting on this world.

The Amphitheatre of Arles decorated for the Goyesque. Blood spectacles have taken place on this site for over 2000 years. There is a choir just a few metres to my right. The rain held off until the final third of the afternoons last bull; a storm began as we left the ring. 07/09/13

Enrique Ponce cites to kill the first bull of the afternoon. 07/09/13

25

Ral Nacif, J Los indultos en la Plaza Mxico Al Toro Mxico, Al Toro Mxico, 26.12.12 Web. (accessed 30.11.13)

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The protests grow louder as El Juli goes to change his helping sword, which is used to prop open the red cape for certain passes, for the curved, lethal blade. The President remains silent and El Juli brings the bulls front legs together to allow a clean passage for the sword. He cites and hopes that the bull does not lift his head as the blade goes in. The protests grow louder. Eventually, seconds before El Juli throws himself in front of the horns, the President concedes and flops an orange silk handkerchief over his balcony, pardoning the bull. El Juli throws his sword to the ground and leads the bull to the exit with the cape. Velero charges out of the ring, his hooves send the red petals flying into the air and Julian Lpez Escobar holds his blood stained hands up to the sky.

Bill Webb, Oxford, September December 2013

El Juli walks away from Velero shortly before the pardon is given. Silence is expected as a matador goes in to kill, but here the noise is deafening. 07/09/13

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Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the Peter Kirk Fund for both their financial support and their practical advice: I would never have been able to undertake such an ambitious project without your help. I would particularly like to express my gratitude to Gilly King, Ben Wood, and David Peacock. My thanks go to Abraham Chaibi for introducing me to the Scholarship. I am indebted to Martin Schwitzner, lvaro Martn Alhambra, Alexander Fiske-Harrison and Jess Nieto for sharing their knowledge and their contacts. Thank you Ellyn OByrne for the photos and once again I apologise for the novillada. Thank you to the London Aficionados a los Toros, in particular to Pieter Hildering, Robert Weldon, Mark McKinty, and Karim Pasha-Ladbon. The warm reception I was given by Don Jos Luis Bote Romo, Carlos Enrique Sanchez Finkley, and the other pupils at the Escuela de Tauromaquia de Madrid Marcial Lalanda and also by Nathalie Noel, the maestros and the students at the cole Taurine dArles enriched both my experience and my report. Thanks to Rafael Peralta Revuelta, Paco Piriz, Vernica de Haro, and to Don Antonio, Romain Mittica and the girls at Fermn. I am grateful to Lore Monnig for introducing me to the Club Taurino of New York and to Juan-Carlos Conde for writing my reference. Thank you to Antonio Moreno, Anna Mul and Alejandra Garca; although I am sure you will not agree with what I have written, I respect and am grateful to you all. Thanks also go to Alberto Casas, lvaro Garca Corral and Jaime valos,to Eric Schiller and his friends, to Herv Galtier, to Jos and Diego and to Mayor Luis Mariano Minguela Muoz. My remaining love and gratitude go to my parents and to Numhom, for everything.

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Works Referenced Cerrillo, Antonio, El nmero de corridas en Espaa descendi un 41% del 2007 al 2011 La Vanguardia, La Vanguardia, 10.02.13 Web. De Haro de San Mateo, Veronica La respuesta de la prensa espaola ante la Iniciativa Legislativa Popular Prensa, Cultura y Sociedad PILAR, 2011 pdf. Kamen, Henry, Los Toros desde el Siglo de Oro El Cultural, El Cultural, 08.06.12, Web. Ral Nacif, J Los indultos en la Plaza Mxico al toro Mxico, Al Toro Mxico, 26.12.12 Web. Shubert, Adrian Death and Money in the Afternoon: A History of the Spanish Bullfight (New York; Oxford: OUP, 1999) Tosko, Catherine, The Bull and the Ban (ebook: Suerte Publishing, 2012) Trend, John Brande, The Civilisation of Spain (London: OUP, 1944) Tynan, Kenneth, Bull Fever (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1955) Valle-Incln, RM del, Cartas a un amigo de Provincias (1905), Salmonetes ya no nos quedan, Quintano, IR, 28.04.2011 Web. (accessed 25.10.13) Fact Sheets: Number of UK Vegetarians. Vegetarian Society, The Vegetarian Society of the United Kingdom Limited, n.d. Web. Study on the stunning/killing practices in slaughterhouses and their economic, social and environmental consequences European Commission Directorate General for Health and Consumer Protection, European Commission, 2007 Web.

Other Works Consulted

Chaves Nogales, Manuel, Juan Belmonte, matador de toros: su vida y sus hazaas, ed. Isabel Cintas Guilln, Mara (Sevilla: Renacimiento: Diputacin de Sevilla, 2009) Cross, Sue, Blood Sports or Factory Farming? Which Is the Crueller? A Case for the Vegan Option Continued The Huffington Post, AOL, 29.01.2013, Web. Delgado, Jos, La tauromaquia, o arte de torear 2nd ed (Madrid: Imprenta de Ortoga y Compaia, 1827) (consulted online in pdf format at www.asotauro.com) Fiske-Harrison, Alexander, Into the Arena: The World of the Spanish Bullfight (ebook: Profile books, 2011) Garca Lorca, Federico, Juego y teora del duende Biblioteca, Biblioteca Virtual Universal, 2003 pdf. Hemingway, Ernest, Death in the Afternoon (London: Vintage Books, 2000) Hildering, Pieter, More Words About Bulls (Valencia: Avance Taurino, 2010) Mateo Gomez, Isabel, La lidia de toros en el arte religioso espaol del siglo XIII al XVI El Rostro y el Discurso de la Fiesta, n.p., n.d. pdf.

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Trujillo Ruiz, Jos Antonio, Los Toros en la Literatura abconetwo, n.p., n.d. pdf. (For further information about the corrida, visit www.aficionados-international.com)