Death in the Ring: Morality and Death in the World Bullfighting

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Disclaimer: This post discusses bullfighting, specifically the killing of the bull. I understand that it is a controversial subject. This post simply discusses my perspective on some things I have learned and thought about during my time watching bullfights in Spain.

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Watching the corrida de toros (the Spanish term for bullfighting), I can't help but be drawn into the art on display before me. There is something enchanting about the passes and respect for the bull that captivates me. But the most important part of the corrida is the end, the death of the bull. No matter how well or poorly the matador and his cuadrilla perform during the faena, how he induces the bull's death is what will make or break his performance. If the bull has performed well, and the matador induces a quick death, he will be celebrated. If the bull has performed well, and the matador drags the death out, he will be condemned. If the bull has not performed well, and the matador quickly dispatches it, he will be respected for his mercy. There is a certain morality in the bull's death that is not found in everyday life that I have come to respect, and expect, in becoming am aficionado.

Facing the Matador

It is rare to face one's cause of death head-on in today's world. Whether you're a human dying from cancer, a deer shot by a hunter, or a victim of a freak accident, we seldom get a choice in how we die. We even more seldom have the opportunity to defeat our would-be assassin. There was (and maybe still is) a bit of poeticism of soldiers dying on the field of battle, face-to-face with their opponents, locked in a feat where only one will emerge alive.

In the world of the corrida, there is a similar poeticism. Most bovine will meet their end unknowingly with a stun to the back of the head followed by having their blood drained. Their death doesn't lack meaning; they provide food to upwards of 1500 people, thus contributing to the circle of life. But it comes without warning, and without their say. Not so with the corrida. The corrida is the only time a bull gets a say in whether or not it lives or dies, the manner in which it goes, and whether or not the matador goes with, or before, the bull out of the ring.

Occasionally, and not rarely, the bull wins one, at least for a while, and sends the matador off to the infirmary. I have watched this happen more than once. Sometimes it may not send the matador off, but it will wound him on the way down. I have watched this happen several times. While the bull, in almost every faena, ultimately dies on its own field of battle, the bull in the ring has the opportunity few, man or beast, have: to face your killer and have a chance, however small, to win.

A Quick Death

Most people would rather their death come suddenly and painlessly. Nonetheless, we all know it is coming. Each day we march to the steady and unending drumbeat of time, slowly, but steadily, leading us to our spot in the ground and hereafter. Sometimes we find ourselves in an unwinnable position, where we know we are not getting out alive, but nonetheless fight hard until the end, hoping when it is all over that we will have parted with this earth painlessly, and that we will not be made to suffer as the life slowly drains from us.

This same notion translates into the bullring. Undue suffering in death is not just frowned upon in the ring; it is actively opposed and protested. The bull is not fatally wounded until the very end, the estocada. This is the true test of the matador's skill. Afterall, "matador" means "bull killer." What good is his performance if he cannot live up to his title? The good matador will kill the bull quickly. A great one will do it near instantly. The goal of the estocada is to pierce the bull's aorta, inducing a rapid death within seconds. However, such a precise strike is difficult for even the most experienced matador, and the bull often remains standing...and fighting until the end. In such cases, the subalternos step in with their capotes to move and spin the bull in what many would assume to be cruel taunting, but what is actually a humane act of trying to quicken the bull's death. As the bull follows the capotes, it bleeds faster and the estoque cuts more and more, hastening the death.

Even so, this is sometimes not enough, and the matador must pull out the descabello to sever the bull's spinal cord in one final strike to induce immediate death. Sometimes the bull goes down before the descabellar, but has not died, in which case the puntillero will sever the bull's spinal cord with a quick jab of the puntilla. In both cases, it had better be instantaneous. It is not just a test of the matador's or puntillero's skill, but of their humaneness in granting the bull a quick death. Just as there is no glory on the field of battle in torturing the enemy soldier, there is no glory, or sense, it inducing the same on the bull. If the matador or puntillero fail I this task, they will be rapidly condemned by the crowd.

Celebration in Death

When we die, there will be, we hope, tears from our loved ones. Applauding someone's death is considered not just ill taste; it is considered disrespectful. Only someone who truly despises another will applaud their death. On the field of battle, you won't find soldiers applauding the death of the enemy unless they are true moral philosophers.

In the bullring, it is the opposite. The bull is an equal participant in the spectacle and artform that is the corrida. The matador is the artist, the bull the art. Its charges are applauded, its bravery celebrated. Its death is no different. Some who have not watched a corrida in depth think that the bull being dragged off is just a part of the process of setting up the next faena, but this is not so. As the bull is dragged away, the crowd usually applauds, sometimes even with a standing ovation, in celebration of the bull's performance during the evening. In especially great performances, the bull will be dragged around the ring, just as the matador walks around it, to receive an extended ovation from the crowd. In no other case is the bovine's, or any other animal's (or even man's), death celebrated in such a manner. The bull receives an honor most humans never do.

Parting Thoughts

Death is something everyone thinks of from time to time. Whether it be at a funeral, performing extreme acts, or hunting for food, we all, at some point or another, will confront death. Maybe it will be someone else's, maybe an animal's, but certainly our own. Yet, we rarely consider death at a deeper level, and when it comes we are surprised, shocked, taken aback, and only have our initial emotions to evaluate what has happened. In the corrida, with death before us a certainty, it is not only inevitable that we will have to think about death, but in the course of one night we will have to do so six times. Few other situations allow, and I do mean allow, us to really think through death and the morality that surrounds it. In examining the world of bullfighting, I find what I view to be some of the ideal morality in death. To be able to face my death head on and maybe, just maybe, emerge victorious, for it to be quick, and for my friends and family to celebrate my life rather than mourn it, to me, are things I can only hope for. This is something I have learned only from witnessing death in the ring.