Young people promote the resurrection of bullfighting in Spain

Álvaro Alarcón represents the moment when he will enter the bullring of Las Ventas in Madrid for his last challenge as a “novillero” or apprentice bullfighter.

The 24-year-old has been training in the dusty countryside outside the Spanish capital, and his form-fitting suit, delicately woven with beads and gold embroidery, has returned from the tailor. If he succeeds this last time, he will be considered for the highest rank of “matador”, bullfighters who tackle beasts that weigh more than half a ton.

“From the moment you wake up until you go to bed, and even when you sleep, you dream about what you want to do in the arena,” he said. “Being a bullfighter is a way of life.”

Spanish bullfighting has been declared dead on several occasions, but the number of bullfights in the country is at its highest level in seven years, with young people the most consistent presence as groups of older spectators depart.

One Sunday afternoon, Alarcón has to kill two steers by sticking a sword through their shoulder blades, piercing the animals’ aortas. He is acclaimed by hundreds of children and teenagers among the 8,700 people who come to see him from the stands. In an age of nearly limitless entertainment options, that’s a serious statement.

It is now a minority interest. Just under 2% of Spaniards attended a bullfight in the 2021-22 season, according to statistics from the Ministry of Culture, but among them teenagers aged 15 to 19 made up the largest group. People aged 75 and over were the least likely to attend.

The UN Committee on the Rights of the Child urged Spain in 2018 to ban children from bullfighting to protect them from “exposure to violence”. So far, the appeal has had little effect.

Although bullfights weren’t close to drawing crowds half a century ago, they remain an important, if divisive, symbol of Spanish identity in the central and southern regions of the country. The audience is smaller, say fans, but more engaged.

Miriam Cabas is a 21-year-old bullfighter from the southern region of Andalusia and one of the 250 women registered as professionals in Spain. She has seen the profile of crowds change since she was a child in the stands. “It’s true that bullfighting has diminished,” he admitted. “But right now, I sense that the youth is booming and people really want to meet up and get in the arena.”

For some young people on the right, associating themselves proudly with the symbols of traditional Spain, such as wearing the colors of the flag on wristbands and polo shirts, or attending bullfights, has become fashionable.

África Calderón García, 20, is a seamstress at a Madrid tailor who makes the intricate “traje de luces” that bullfighters wear in the bullring. He grew up attending bullfights with his grandmother and will carry on the tradition, although he considers himself someone who cares deeply about animals.

“It’s an art form; it’s Spanish culture,” he said. “People are not aware of all the work that goes into it and the quality of animal care,” he added, citing a common argument among pro-bullfighting groups that the bull breed of combat lives a well-fed existence on the outside until they enter the arena.

Young fans were outraged by the government’s attempt last year to exclude bullfighting from a 400 euro (US$436) grant for 18-year-olds to spend on cultural activities. A legal case brought by a bullfighting association ended up in Spain’s Supreme Court, which ruled against the left-wing coalition that currently rules the country.

The legal argument used was based on the fact that bullfighting is protected as cultural heritage in Spain by legislation passed ten years ago to ensure its survival. “As long as this law is in force, bullfighting will be protected in Spain, although animal abuse is legalized,” Yolanda Morales, spokesperson for the Animalist Party of Spain, said in a recent video posted on social media. .

Since the 1970s, once-iconic bullrings have closed in Barcelona, ​​Benidorm and Santa Cruz de Tenerife, reopening as shopping malls, cultural centers and even nightclubs.

But for Antonio López Fuentes, a master tailor and patron of Calderón García, the government action was just the latest attempt to outlaw a practice that kings, popes and Moorish rulers have tried to eradicate over the years. last thousand years. “They (young people) think: ‘If they try to ban me something, I will do it’”, he said.

The risks remain as high as ever. On Alarcón’s last night as a bullfighter, he was gored by a bull and left with three broken ribs. After the surgery, he texted, “I’ll be back in the ring very soon.”

But Alarcón grew up in a family that had no interest in bullfighting, with parents who were horrified when he wanted to enter a school to learn the practice as a teenager. “I loved motorbikes and everything related to extreme sports,” he told the AP. “I had never seen a bull until I saw a documentary about bullfighting at the age of 13 and discovered this beautiful profession.”

Beyond the bullfighters themselves, the industry employs thousands of breeders, as well as event organizers and promoters, and even bullfighting critics who still write articles about events in prestigious national newspapers. “Álvaro Alarcón took two bullfighters with fuel and momentum,” said a recent article in the newspaper El País, which reported that Alarcón had received a severed ear from a bull that had been slaughtered.