Bullfighting for families? A psychotherapist asks whether you should take kids to violent attractions
A year ago, if a parent had told me they were planning to spend their summer holiday in the south of France taking their child to watch men torment bulls, I would have been aghast. As a mother, but also as a psychotherapist who knows the damaging effects of witnessing violent acts, all forms of cruelty make me flinch.
And yet, last summer, that parent was me.
My husband and I had booked an Airbnb just west of N?mes, hoping that our distance from the C?te d'Azur would provide a relatively inexpensive, not-too-touristy holiday for us and our 10-year-old son. Here, centuries-old customs dominated village life, tourists were not expected or catered for, and little English was spoken.
We were intrigued when, on our first trip to the village boulangerie, we noticed posters advertising what appeared to be a local bullfight. Then we saw signs in other villages warning that streets would be closed for bull running (this garnered a roar of delight from our son). There was even an advert for something called a taureau-piscine. What on Earth would a bull be doing in a swimming pool? And would any of this be appropriate for my 10-year-old?
I would quickly decline any invitation to a Spanish corrida. But, our Airbnb hosts reassured us, there is no killing in La Course Camarguaise, as this French genre of bullfighting, which dates back to Roman times, is called. In fact, they said, the bull is considered the star, the hero, if you like, and the men who taunt him look like the fools. The goal is to snatch a ribbon from between the bull's horns. The animals aren't injured or killed. But the men do taunt the bull as they dash across the arena, trying to attract its attention, and then jumping into the stands to avoid the beast as it charges.
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Is taunting OK? Where do you draw the line? What if the “local custom” isn’t violent, but more unkind or annoying? Do you let your child sit on an alligator in Florida? Watch an ostrich race in South Africa? Does the awe your child experiences in coming eye-to-eye with an elephant in Thailand trump the giant animal’s suffering in captivity? Have you seen the photographs of Danish school children assembled to watch Marius the giraffe being dissected at Copenhagen Zoo? Is it OK to euthanise a young animal deemed surplus to requirement and then cut it up for educational purposes? Would you have let your children join in?
The impact of witnessing violent acts
For a child - indeed, for anyone - witnessing an animal being tormented, bled, and killed is a traumatic experience. No doubt many Spanish mothers would disagree with me.
So would my husband. He has seen a corrida as an adult and found it hypnotising, and he would have been happy for our 10-year-old to watch a real bullfight. His argument? The killing of bulls is part of a living, historic culture. Exposure to this experience would enrich our son’s outlook on life.
I’m not so sure. Few studies have investigated specifically the effects on children of witnessing animal cruelty. But one which looked at young people who had seen their domestic pet abused found they were more likely to report anxiety and depression in later life than those who had not. This effect is similar to the toll on mental health experienced by children who witness the violent abuse of close family members.
And the United Nations agrees. Earlier this year it called on Spain “to prevent the harmful effects of bullfighting on children”. The Committee on the Rights of the Child, a panel of independent experts, said it was concerned by the impact bullfighting could have on anyone under the age of 18.
Psychologically, one of the problems with bullfighting is the public’s intense enjoyment of the event; one study has shown that it is less the violence of aggressive scenes that is damaging to a child and more the adults’ enjoyment of the spectacle. The arena erupts with joy as wounds are inflicted on an animal which has no choice in its fate. A child may feel upset or disorientated by this. But because the adults around the child appear to be celebrating the cruelty, a child may feel the need to bury their feelings of empathy or sorrow. You don’t need to have studied psychology to know what Freud had to say about buried feelings. The child may also lose the all-important feeling of security or trust in their parents.
Fortunately for us, we were able to partake of the rich culture of La Course Camarguaise without fear of any of the above. We spent our holiday watching many of these bullfights in several small villages around Nimes and, as a highlight and on demand from our son, at the 2,000-year-old Roman arena in Arles. He showed no sign of trauma - just excitement and fascination with the enthusiasm of the crowds and the power of the bulls.
The shows consisted of men, called raseteurs, running into the ring where they would try to pull ribbons (cocardes) from the bull’s horns. Six bulls are normally used in each show, with the most agile and prized bulls going last. The bull is teased and taunted by the white-clad raseteurs, but it is they who have to run for their lives when he charges at them. Sometimes they get a bit of a nip in the derriere as they leap over the barrier, to the great hilarity of the crowds. The bulls were annoyed, to be sure, but in the same way that they might be when playing with any other animal.
More comically, we also watched a taureau piscine, which actually featured Camargue cows (they have equally long, sharp horns) and an inflatable swimming pool. Several young men - alarmingly it appeared than anyone in the audience could have a go - entered the ring to taunt the angry cow, trying to get it to chase them through the pool in the middle of the arena. Admittedly, this felt less respectful to the animals and “more of a circus”, as my son and I concluded.
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On our final night we watched an abrivado, where bulls are run through the street guided by a group of 12 gardians mounted on white Camargue horses. Villagers try to grab the bull by its horns or tail. It was terrifying and thrilling and extraordinary and a tiny bit questionable. Did the bulls mind their tail being grabbed, I wondered?
While I had misgivings, our son adored it all. We had hoped he would fall in love with France, as his father and I had years before - and, for him, this was the way in. He roared with delight, gaped open-mouthed at the spectacle and every now and then felt the absolute thrill of fear when a bull charged straight towards where we were sitting or standing, or even jumped over the barrier onto the stands. I did not worry about him at all, until he got rather foolhardy and told me it was not cool to hide behind the safety barrier during the abrivado.
Where do you draw the line?
PETA, the animal rights organisation, has a long list of “animal attractions” tourists should avoid. Elephant rides, for example, are considered cruel as the animals are either taken from the wild or bred in captivity and then “beaten into submission”. Swimming with dolphins, tiger selfies, marine parks, and dancing monkeys are all off-limits. I would not want my son to visit a marine park, either. (Watch Blackfish about a captive orca at Seaworld in Orlando and you will agree with me.) Peta is clear in its abhorrence of bullfighting, in which, the charity notes, thousands of bulls are slaughtered each year. It notes the panic the animals feel in the running of the bulls. But while it calls out Portuguese “bloodless” bullfighting as cruel, it does not lump La Course Camarguaise in the same camp. But there’s a fierce anti-corrida group in southern France, and bullfighting has been banned in almost all of France - on the grounds of animal cruelty - except for in southern cities and towns - like Nimes and Beziers - that can prove an unbroken historic tradition. And, indeed, the festivities surrounding La Course are the real joy - the crowds in the streets, the food, the wine, the music - unite to create an atmosphere only of this place. Would it exist without the bulls? Not in the same way.
Having just returned from a holiday in New Zealand where we saw whales, orca, dolphins, seals and stingrays in the ocean, I was left in no doubt about the overwhelming feeling of joy and rapture one feels at seeing these animals free and in their rightful environment. This cannot be said of the bulls of the Camargue. But on that French holiday we learned the majesty of these fantastic beasts. Let me tell you, if you have watched a bull charge straight at you and your small child (even standing behind the safety barrier) in a street in a small French village your feel a renewed sense of awe and wonder for these beasts, and most importantly, respect.
Sally Warren is a psychotherapist based in London
