Bullfighting: The Good, The Bad and the Ugly
August 13, 2010
Press play to listen
When I read the Spanish province of Catalonia voted to outlaw bullfighting, I was not surprised. A few years ago I traveled through Spain to write about bullfighting. Along the way, I met Barcelona’s director of tourism, and asked her why bullfighting was much less popular in Barcelona than the rest of Spain. She replied, “It is because we are civilized.”
Bullfighting’s biggest opponents ,in fact, have always been Spaniards. Even bullfighting’s fans don’t brag about the 13,000 bulls killed every year in the ring, or claim they deserve to be killed.
But I’m not sure we’re in a position to judge bullfighting too harshly. We kill more than 35 million cows every year, and 100 million pigs and eight billion chickens. Not even Birkenstocks grow on trees.
The Spanish bulls might have it better than your average American bull. They’re not castrated or stuck in a veal pen but roam freely on the range and mate for life. Whether it’s better to die by a cattle prod and a knife to the throat or a sword to the back, after being allowed a few swipes at the swordsman, is debatable. But if you’ve never seen a bull killed outside of a bullring, you might be just as appalled by an Omaha slaughterhouse.
No one claims a bull fight is fair. But it would be a mistake to think the whole thing is just a mere contest. The aficionados don't go to the bullfights to see who "wins” any more than music critics go the opera to see who finishes first.
It’s not a game, but a performance. Done poorly, bullfighting is humiliating and revolting, diminishing everyone involved. One bad bullfighter I saw named Jesulin kept shuffling his feet as if he was standing on a frying pan. He had no poise, no control. The bull ran when he wanted it to stop; it stopped when he wanted it to run; and then it simply ignored him altogether and walked away, leaving him standing there like a suitor trying to look brave after being slapped in public. When he drew his sword to end the bull’s life, I had to look away. It was that bad.
But seeing it done well was just as memorable. Francisco Ordonez is one of Spain’s best bullfighters. His grandfather was the inspiration for Ernest Hemingway’s Pedro Romero in The Sun Also Rises. Unlike Jesulin, Ordonez planted his feet as if they’d been nailed there. He was fearless, and exuded complete control, like a conductor who could create exactly what he wanted with the slightest gesture – and knew it.
In just seconds, he and his four-legged partner were dancing like they’d been doing it for years– first slowly and separately, then quickly and closely, but always in concert, with Ordonez leaving the bull in position for his next pass the way a good pool player leaves the cue ball poised for his next shot.
After a flurry of passes, Ordonez nodded respectfully to the mesmerized bull, then strode confidently away from him, trusting the bull with his back. He did not work to impress the crowd, but the bull – and he did.
When the dance was over, Fran guided the long sword directly over the bull’s horns, and thrust downward into the bull’s back. He then walked away, certain he had done it right. Two beats later, the bull fell on its side.
Hemingway wrote, “From amoral point of view, the whole bullfight is indefensible. But whoever reads this can only truly make such a judgment when he, or she,has seen the things that are spoken of here.”
Bullfighting might be many things, but only a person who has never seen it done well could claim it lacks courage, skill and art.
Press play to listen
Download | Duration: 00:00:24
When I read the Spanish province of Catalonia voted to outlaw bullfighting, I was not surprised. A few years ago I traveled through Spain to write about bullfighting. Along the way, I met Barcelona’s director of tourism, and asked her why bullfighting was much less popular in Barcelona than the rest of Spain. She replied, “It is because we are civilized.”
Bullfighting’s biggest opponents ,in fact, have always been Spaniards. Even bullfighting’s fans don’t brag about the 13,000 bulls killed every year in the ring, or claim they deserve to be killed.
But I’m not sure we’re in a position to judge bullfighting too harshly. We kill more than 35 million cows every year, and 100 million pigs and eight billion chickens. Not even Birkenstocks grow on trees.
The Spanish bulls might have it better than your average American bull. They’re not castrated or stuck in a veal pen but roam freely on the range and mate for life. Whether it’s better to die by a cattle prod and a knife to the throat or a sword to the back, after being allowed a few swipes at the swordsman, is debatable. But if you’ve never seen a bull killed outside of a bullring, you might be just as appalled by an Omaha slaughterhouse.
No one claims a bull fight is fair. But it would be a mistake to think the whole thing is just a mere contest. The aficionados don't go to the bullfights to see who "wins” any more than music critics go the opera to see who finishes first.
It’s not a game, but a performance. Done poorly, bullfighting is humiliating and revolting, diminishing everyone involved. One bad bullfighter I saw named Jesulin kept shuffling his feet as if he was standing on a frying pan. He had no poise, no control. The bull ran when he wanted it to stop; it stopped when he wanted it to run; and then it simply ignored him altogether and walked away, leaving him standing there like a suitor trying to look brave after being slapped in public. When he drew his sword to end the bull’s life, I had to look away. It was that bad.
But seeing it done well was just as memorable. Francisco Ordonez is one of Spain’s best bullfighters. His grandfather was the inspiration for Ernest Hemingway’s Pedro Romero in The Sun Also Rises. Unlike Jesulin, Ordonez planted his feet as if they’d been nailed there. He was fearless, and exuded complete control, like a conductor who could create exactly what he wanted with the slightest gesture – and knew it.
In just seconds, he and his four-legged partner were dancing like they’d been doing it for years– first slowly and separately, then quickly and closely, but always in concert, with Ordonez leaving the bull in position for his next pass the way a good pool player leaves the cue ball poised for his next shot.
After a flurry of passes, Ordonez nodded respectfully to the mesmerized bull, then strode confidently away from him, trusting the bull with his back. He did not work to impress the crowd, but the bull – and he did.
When the dance was over, Fran guided the long sword directly over the bull’s horns, and thrust downward into the bull’s back. He then walked away, certain he had done it right. Two beats later, the bull fell on its side.
Hemingway wrote, “From amoral point of view, the whole bullfight is indefensible. But whoever reads this can only truly make such a judgment when he, or she,has seen the things that are spoken of here.”
Bullfighting might be many things, but only a person who has never seen it done well could claim it lacks courage, skill and art.
Copyright© 2010, Michigan Radio
Follow me on Twitter: http://twitter.com/johnubacon
while i agree that bullfighting does combine courage, skill and art, i wonder at the necesity of the kill in this day and age. after all in opera they don't kill the fat lady. anyhow, nice column...
Reply to this
Dear Pat,
Good point, with a witty twist. I trust it’s clear I have more than a few reservations about it. There are times it’s just impossible to watch.
But having seen it done well, and also researched our slaughterhouses a little, I’m not as quick to judge as I might be. If there’s one target I rarely can resist striking, it’s hypocrisy, and we’re guilty of some here — though your comment is on the mark, in my view. There were times I found myself impressed by the bullfighter’s work, despite myself. I can understand why many Spaniards go to see a bullfighter like Ordonez in his prime.
In some ways it mimics my utterly mixed feelings about boxing — wonderful to see done well, and horrible to see done poorly, and worse to see the long term effects on the boxers. Even football can come with a terrible price, one that’s hard to reconcile with our glorification of the athletes and the games.
Obviously, I would never object to Catalonia banning bullfighting – nor any other place — and we need to see the NFL and the NCAA do more to protect the players on the field, not just during their careers, but years after.
Thanks for reading, and thanks for writing.
-John
Reply to this
Hola John!
Bien dicho! I became an aficianado many years ago, when serving in the Navy in the Med, and when introduced to the "fiesta de toros" while visiting a good Michigan friend in Andalucia. In fact, I spent a full summer with him at a time when Antonio Ordonez and Luis Miguel Dominguin went Mano a Mano for much of the year.
I can understand where some animal rights people and the like may be coming from, but they really do not comprehend the culture and what the "fiesta taurina" is about.
A "lidea" is more than just a "fight". It is an art form of the highest order in which a man faces death by daring an animal bred specifically to attack anything that moves. Only by his skill and a cloth or cape does the man manage to deflect the animal's attention from himself.
The "lidea' is therefore, not a contest of equally balanced elements but of entirely different ones.In a good lidea neither man nor beast attacks; The toro attacks; the man lures and deceives. It is a test of courage on the part of the man, and of the strength on the side of the animal...It is tragedy in the true heroic manner.
This captures the essence of what Hemingway felt, and wrote about, as an aficianado. It was all about this machismo in "Death in the Afternoon"
Hasta la vista y Vamanos Azul!
don Eduardo, el Conde de Boca de Raton
Reply to this