At 4:30 p.m., the crowd of nearly 42,000 people at La Plaza México began booing incessantly. They had been waiting since May 15, 2022 – a 624-day period of legal challenges – for the bulls to return to the world’s largest bullfighting arena, only to face another delay because of hundreds of protesters outside.
When the afternoon’s parade of three matadors and their bullfighting entourage finally emerged to greet the fans, the Mexico City bullring erupted. Then, at 4:58 p.m., the first bull charged and ran around the ring.
Over the next two and a half hours last Sunday, fans cheered and jeered, shouting “olé”, he smoked cigars, ate grilled meat and chips, drank beer and mezcal, and watched five bulls die with swords stuck in their spines.
“Seeing it here, the ‘olé’ and the rumble of the square, it’s indescribable,” said Erik Reyes, 30, a Mexico City resident who was in the stands.
Bullfighting, which spread from Spain throughout its colonies in Latin America in the 1500s, has been at the center of a major legal battle over its return to the largest bullfighting city in the largest bullfighting country in the world. This battle has become symbolic of a larger war between tradition and evolving views on animal cruelty.
The legal whiplash continued Wednesday, when a judge temporarily suspended bullfighting at La Plaza México, just days after it was resumed. Plaza México officials contested the decision.
“No one who goes to a bullfight comes out a better person,” said Jerónimo Sánchez, an animal rights activist.
The first recorded bullfight in Mexico dates back to 1526, according to a national bullfighting organization, and 326 plazas, or arenas, remain. Since 2013, five of Mexico’s 31 states have banned bullfights.
But for nearly two years, a legal battle had cast doubt on the future of bullfighting in the country’s most important arena. Arguing that “degradation“The treatment of bulls was harmful to society, a human rights group managed to convince a federal judge in 2022 to approve the suspension of bullfighting in La Plaza México, even though the practice is allowed in other parts of the country.
At the time, Mario Zulaica, 42, a former bullfighter and director of the arena for the past eight years, was in Spain trying to hire bullfighters for La Plaza México.
“It hit me like a bucket of cold water,” he said.
In a typical year, La Plaza México hosted up to 30 bullfighting events, Zulaica said. The headquarters, he added, directly employed 2,000 people and provided jobs for thousands more, including at nearby restaurants and ranches that supply the bulls.
After La Plaza México officials appealed the decision, the Mexican Supreme Court lifted the suspension in early December, allowing bullfighting to return while the merits of the case were still being decided. So the square moved forward, planning nine events through the end of March.
On Wednesday, another federal judge thwarted those plans by imposing a new ban on bullfighting at the arena, acting on a petition from an animal rights group that argued that bulls should be given the same legal protection as other animals in the country.
Mr. Zulaica then said that La Plaza México’s lawyers had already filed an appeal and were hoping for a quick resolution. Bullfights were scheduled for Sunday and Monday.
“I’m more surprised than disappointed or sad,” he said. “You cannot be so intransigent as not to see that there were 40,000 participants who demonstrated that bullfighting is more alive than ever.”
Although there are many bullfights in other parts of the country, the Mexico City bullring is the country’s main economic driver for bullfighting and the first stage to boost a bullfighter’s career.
“You’re risking your life to create art and create something magical,” said José Mauricio, 39, a Mexican who was gored and broke a wrist and rib in his 18 years as a matador.
Another Mexican bullfighter, Paola San Román, 28, added that the resumption of bullfighting at La Plaza México was important to highlight “this tradition and this culture.”
Before last Sunday’s bullfight, more than 300 protesters stopped traffic on La Plaza México, carrying signs, beating drums and chanting. One sign said: “This is not art. It’s a torture”.
“No animal should suffer,” said Shantel Delgado, 29, a vegetarian dressed as a bull covered in red paint. “Everyone deserves respect like us humans. You can have a job another way. For me it’s not a tradition. It’s an aberration.”
Outside La Plaza México, some protesters spray-painted the walls of the arena (“murderers” was often written) and tried to open a gate as police officers in riot gear blocked it. They threw water and rubbish at the officers while mobbing fans also headed towards the arena.
Inside La Plaza México, some fans made obscene hand gestures towards protesters. And throughout the afternoon, intermittent rallying cries rose from the stands: “Long live La Plaza México!” and “Long live the freedom of bullfighting!”
Mr. Sánchez, director of Animal Heroes, an organization that started the “Mexico Without Bullfighting” campaign five years ago, said “political willpower” helped push bullfighting bans in some states and municipalities.
From Seville, Spain, Mr. Sánchez, 40, said he would never forget the way a bull cried after being hit with banderillas – barbed darts that made the animal bleed and angry – during a bullfight when he was a teenager. He said his organization wants Mexico’s Congress to permanently ban the practice nationwide. He argued that it was immoral to set standards for how to kill a pig in a slaughterhouse, while allowing bullfighting to continue.
“We see it as a Roman circus,” Sánchez said. “We consider it an anachronistic show. The new generations, when in a few years bullfighting is banned throughout the world, will look back with amazement.”
Zulaica said she understands that younger generations may be more aware of the treatment of animals. But, she added, “we are convinced that in a modern and diverse Mexico we should aspire to a society of freedom, of respect and, more than anything, of tolerance for all cultural expressions, regardless of personal tastes.”
José Saborit, director of a national bullfighting organization called Tauromaquia Mexicana, said the practice remained particularly popular in some smaller cities and that, with the exception of football, no other event regularly draws 30,000 to 40,000 people like La Plaza Mexico.
“If we want a world of prohibitions and moral impositions, then bullfighting is at risk,” Saborit said.
Bullfighting industry workers care for bulls by breeding and breeding them for years, he added, and only a small percentage of a mother’s calves are ultimately killed in an arena.
Mr Reyes, whose grandfather first took him to the plazas of their home state of Veracruz, said he knows bullfighting is not for everyone and “undeniably and unfortunately for those who like it, it will die”.
“I’m not against death,” he added, referring to bullfighting. “He will die sooner or later. But I am against the ban when there is still a certain following.”
The reopening of La Plaza México ended noisily. Andrés Roca Rey, a Peruvian matador, struggled to kill his second and final bull of the night with his sword. After a third warning, Mr. Rey left the ring to a chorus of boos. When the stands emptied, the bull was taken back to the pens, where it was killed and then prepared to be eaten as meat.
The streets around La Plaza México were still bustling with life. People filled the food stands. Others ordered beer from nearby convenience stores to continue the celebrations.
When and if spectators will be able to return remains to be seen.
Emiliano Rodríguez Mega contributed to the reporting.
