At 4:30 p.m., the near-capacity crowd of 42,000 at La Plaza México began to whistle restlessly. They have been waiting since May 15, 2022 – a period of 624 days of legal challenges – for the bulls to return to the world’s largest bullring, only to face another delay due to the hundreds of protesters outside.
When the parade of the evening’s three matadors and their bullfighting entourage finally appeared to greet the fans, the arena in Mexico City erupted. Then, at 4:58 p.m., the first bull broke loose and ran around the ring.
For the next two and a half hours last Sunday, the fans cheered and jeered, chanted “olé”, he smoked cigars, ate grilled meats and chips, drank beer and mezcal, and watched five bulls die with swords driven into their backs.
“To see it here, the ‘olé’ and how the square is thundering, is indescribable,” said Erik Reyes, 30, a Mexico City resident who was in the stands.
Bullfighting, which spread from Spain to all its Latin American colonies in the 1500s, has been at the center of a major legal battle over its return to the biggest bullfighting city in the world’s biggest bullfighting country. This battle came to symbolize a larger war between tradition and evolving views on animal cruelty.
The legal battle continued Wednesday when a judge temporarily suspended the bullfight at La Plaza México — just days after it was set to resume. Officials at La Plaza Mexico have disputed the decision.
“No one who goes to a bullfight comes out better,” said Jerónimo Sánchez, an animal rights activist.
The first recorded bullfight in Mexico was in 1526, according to a national bullfighting organization, and there are 326 plazas or arenas left. As of 2013, five of Mexico’s 31 states have banned bullfighting.
But for nearly two years, a legal battle had cast doubt on the future of bullfighting in the country’s iconic arena. Arguing that the “degrading” treatment of bulls was harmful to society, a human rights group successfully persuaded a federal judge in 2022 to approve a suspension of bullfights at La Plaza México, even though the practice is allowed elsewhere in the country.
At the time, Mario Zulaica, 42, a former bullfighter and arena manager for the past eight years, was in Spain trying to recruit bullfighters for La Plaza México.
“It hit me like a bucket of cold water,” he said.
In a typical year, La Plaza México hosted as many as 30 bullfighting events, Mr. Zulaica said. The site, he added, directly employed 2,000 people and provided work for thousands more, including nearby restaurants and the ranches that supply the bulls.
After La Plaza México officials appealed the decision, Mexico’s Supreme Court lifted the suspension in early December, allowing bullfighting to resume while the case was still pending. So the square charged ahead, planning nine events through the end of March.
On Wednesday, a different federal judge thwarted those plans by imposing a new ban on bullfighting in the arena, acting on a petition from an animal rights group that argued that bulls should be afforded the same legal protections as other animals in the country.
Mr. Zulaica later said that La Plaza México’s lawyers had already filed an appeal and he hoped for a quick resolution. Bullfights were scheduled for Sunday and Monday.
“I’m more surprised than disappointed or sad,” he said. “One cannot be so intransigent as not to see that there were 40,000 present which showed that bullfighting is more alive than ever.”
While there are many bullfights elsewhere in the country, the Mexico City bullring is the country’s leading economic engine for bullfighting and the premier stage for promoting a bullfighter’s career.
“You put your life on the line to create art and create something magical,” said Jose Mauricio, 39, a devastated Mexican who broke a wrist and ribs in his 18 years as a matador.
Another Mexican bullfighter, Paola San Román, 28, added that the resumption of bullfights at La Plaza México was important to highlight “this tradition and this culture.”
Before last Sunday’s bullfight, more than 300 protesters blocked traffic to La Plaza México, holding signs, beating drums and shouting. A sign read: “This is not art. It’s torture.”
“No animal should suffer,” said Shantel Delgado, 29, a vegetarian dressed as a bull covered in red paint. “They all deserve respect like we humans do. You can have jobs in another way. It’s not a tradition for me. It is an aberration.”
Outside Mexico’s La Plaza, some protesters spray-painted the walls of the arena (“killers” was often written) and tried to open a gate as police in riot gear held it up. They threw water and garbage at the officers, while also hitting fans heading towards the arena.
Inside Mexico’s La Plaza, some fans made obscene gestures at protesters. And throughout the afternoon, there were intermittent shouts from the stands: “Long live La Plaza México!” and “Long live the freedom of bullfighting!”
Mr. Sánchez, director of Animal Heroes, an organization that launched a “Mexico without bullfights” campaign five years ago, said “political will” had helped ban bullfights in some states and municipalities.
From Seville, Spain, Mr Sánchez, 40, said he would never forget the way a bull cried after being stuck with banderillas – barbed darts that draw blood and enrage the animal – in a bullfight as a teenager . He said his organization wants Mexico’s Congress to permanently ban the practice nationwide. He argued that it was unethical to have standards for how to kill a pig in a slaughter but allow bullfighting to continue.
“We see it as a Roman circus,” Mr Sánchez said. “We see it as an anachronistic spectacle. The new generations, when in a few years bullfighting is banned all over the world, will look back in amazement.”
Mr Zulaica said he understood that younger generations might be more aware of the treatment of animals. But, he added, “we are convinced that in a modern and diverse Mexico, we should seek a society of freedoms, respect and, more than anything else, tolerance for all cultural expressions — regardless of personal taste.”
José Saborit, director of a national bullfighting organization called Tauromaquia Mexicana, said the practice remains particularly popular in some smaller towns and that, with the exception of soccer, no other event regularly draws 30,000 to 40,000 people like La Plaza México.
“If we want a world of bans and moral enforcement, then bullfighting is in danger,” Mr Saborit said.
Workers in the bullfighting industry take care of the bulls by raising them for years and breeding them, he added, with only a smaller percentage of a mother’s calves ultimately being killed in an arena.
Mr Reyes, whose grandfather first took him to bullrings in the state of Veracruz, said he knows bullfighting is not for everyone and “undoubtedly and unfortunately for those who like it, they will die”.
“I’m not against it dying,” he added of bullfighting. “He’s going to die sooner or later. But I’m against banning it when it still has some followers.”
The reopening of La Plaza México has come to a sad end. Andrés Roca Rey, a Peruvian matador, fought to kill the second and final bull of the night with a sword. After a third warning, Mr. Rey left the ring to a chorus of boos. As the stands emptied, the bull was taken back to the corrals, 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 stalls with food. Others ordered beer from nearby convenience stores to keep the festivities going.
When or if viewers will be able to return is up in the air.
Emiliano Rodríguez Mega contributed to the report.
