Thousands
of tourists converge on Spain each year for the Running of the Bulls. Their
participation gives the festival’s barbarity a stamp of approval, writes
Susannah Waters.
Adrenaline
propels him along the crowded street.
There
is bedlam in the air: he can see it, feel it and smell it. He is trembling.
They
menace him and scream from the sidelines. All around him, thousands of bodies
are revelling in their dance with danger. Their roar stalks him along the cobbled
path as others trample each other to dodge his mammoth frame. The white and red
from their clothing blurs before his eyes.
He
keeps running.
Fiesta of ferocity
The
streets have been hosed of rubbish, and businesses are now counting their cash
bonanza. An exodus of thousands of tourists has poured out of the country. Many
vow to return next year.
The
media reports that at this year’s Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, Spain, 50 people were admitted to hospital with serious injuries.
Some of these were life threatening, but there weren’t any fatalities. The last
one occurred in 2009.
But
casualties are absolutely instrumental to the fiesta; they are predestined.
There must be deaths.
The
spectacle of bulls tearing down narrow winding streets, sending hordes of hyped
up and intoxicated people scrambling, is only one part of the picture. Those 48
bulls will not live beyond the pomp of the closing ceremony’s candlelight
procession and fireworks display. They will die a protracted and torturous death
in a stadium, with the shouts of a rowdy crowd baying for blood ringing in
their ears.
And
they will die at the behest of a festival which thrives on the participation of
thousands of tourists to keep the annual event flourishing.
Blood on their hands
The
Running of the Bulls has a very long history in Spain. But it is only in recent
decades that the event has become a mecca for thousands of tourists from around
the world.
Although
the practice vastly predates its modern popularity with travellers, it is clear
that the massive influx of tourists helps to keep the tradition alive. The injection
of money into the local economy would be irresistible to Pamplona government
authorities, presenting an immense challenge to those advocating for a ban of
the event.
Tourist
support of the Encierro helps to boost
its image, and validates the concept of animal cruelty for the purposes of
public voyeurism.
It
also provides a formidable endorsement for bullfighting, an ethically void
practice which has generated considerable debate within Spain in recent years. The
large region of Catalonia banned
bullfighting two years ago, owing in large part to significant public pressure.
This provided hope that further bans were on the horizon, and demonstrated the
viability of a phase-out of the practice.
It
is clear that tourist participation in the Running of the Bulls equates to
support of animal cruelty.
In
a recent article, British-Jamaican writer and poet Benjamin Zephaniah claimed that these tourists have
blood on their hands. “Tourists
who participate in the run or visit Pamplona simply to watch it, contribute to
the carnage. Every shared tapa, every cerveza, every booked hotel room and
balcony bolsters the killing. As long as the city makes money off the event,
bulls will continue to suffer and die”, he wrote.
Zephaniah asserted that the tourists are “keen
on their own enjoyment” but give “little thought to what the event actually means
for the bulls.”
I
have written before about how cheap tourist thrills can
condemn animals to a life of misery. Tourist dollars can serve to trap animals
in a cycle of abuse. Sadly, the value to the tourist can be trivial: the
animal, often reduced to a photo prop, might feature on the tourist’s Facebook
profile, where positive comments from friends help to condone their unethical
choice. This holiday souvenir speaks volumes about the way in which we interact
with and view animals.
It
is true that travellers sometimes don’t question or recognise the exploitation
of animals because the truth is often concealed from the public eye, as is the
case with the phajaan ritual - the brutal training inflicted on elephants
in preparation for work in tourism - in Thailand. Tourists are intentionally
kept in the dark, as their ignorance is vital to the continued appropriation of
elephants by the tourism industry.
However,
the exploitation of bulls in Pamplona is not hidden from the public gaze. And it
is not adequate to attribute it to “cultural context”. Cultural convention is
never an excuse for the abuse of animals. Tourists should take responsibility
to ensure that they don’t harm the local people, animals or environment in the
visiting country.
There
is nothing honourable, or brave, about supporting violence towards animals.
As the sun goes down
Finally,
he stumbles through the gates of the stadium.
His
fear is palpable; it is a demon coursing a path through his veins, pounding on
his heart with no mercy, stealing his breath, and making him choke on the saliva
which has formed in foam around his mouth.
He
hasn’t experienced any kindness in his life. His time snuggled against the warm
body of his mother was brief - he was branded from birth, herded into line and his
fate was sealed. Today will mark the felicitous culmination of a life lived in
subservience to human will, to misguided and barbaric notions of entertainment.
On
this day, he will be attacked with a ruthless savagery. He will be speared
repeatedly, he will be stabbed through the heart with a sword and he will fall
– but he will keep trying to rise. He will fight hard for his miserable life to
the very end.
He
will draw his last breath.
Spectators
will toss empty beer cans at him. And the stadium will erupt in celebration.
--
Originally published July 2013 in Discordia online zine.
--
Originally published July 2013 in Discordia online zine.
