Colombian bullfighters decry new ban on the centuries-old tradition

A Colombian bullfighter trains in a red hoodie.

By Astrid Suarez

July 23, 2024 9:44 AM PT

CHOACHI, Colombia — Sebastián Caqueza says a new law to ban bullfighting in Colombia by mid-2027 will not dampen his passion for the sport that he has been practicing since he was a small boy.

Caqueza became a professional matador five years ago by taunting a fully grown bull for about 20 minutes and killing it with his sword, in a ceremony known as the Alternativa. Now, the 33-year-old says he will struggle to make a living as a bullfighter, but vows to do his best to stay in the centuries-old tradition.

“I will continue to participate in bullfights outside Colombia,” Caqueza said. “And once bullfights are illegal in Colombia, we will stage them here anyway, because this is our passion and our life.”

“I will die a bullfighter” Caqueza said.

The legislation signed Monday by President Gustavo Petro places restrictions on bullfighting for a three-year transitional period and then imposes a full ban by mid-2027. It also orders the government to turn more than a dozen bullfighting arenas into concert halls and exhibition venues.

The bill was approved this year by Colombia’s Congress after a heated debate. It removes Colombia from the short list of countries where bullfighting is still legal, including Spain, France, Portugal, Mexico, Venezuela, Ecuador and Peru, although the bill does not spell out sanctions for those who continue to stage bullfights.

Recent polls conducted across Colombia indicate bullfighting has lost popularity in the South American country, and animal rights activists have widely celebrated the government’s efforts to end an endeavor they describe as cruel and out of touch with modern values.

Bullfighting aficionados, and those who make a living from the sport, argue the government is threatening the cultural freedoms of minorities.

The bill has especially worried matadors, their assistants and cattle ranchers who specialize in raising fighting bulls, whose future is now uncertain.

“For me bullfighting is like loving someone, and now we are banned from that,” said Nicolas Nossa, 70, a retired matador who runs a bullfighting academy in Choachi, a town of fewer than 10,000 people surrounded by fields and forested mountains.

In the town’s small bullfighting arena, students practice with their capes, using a cart topped with real horns that an instructor pushes toward them. The bullfighting academy has trained more than 100 youths, according to Nossa, including Caqueza, who began to study his craft as a teenager.

But the new legislation is already forcing the academy to make some changes.

Classes have been suspended for children younger than 14 since May, when legislators approved the bill. Now the academy’s leaders must decide if they should continue training a younger cadre of bullfighters in a country where the activity will soon be banned.

“This is especially painful for my generation,” Nossa said, “because we have witnessed the greatness of bullfighting. We represent the hero of flesh and blood, who dies, for real, if he must, just like the bull also gets killed” in the arena.

Nossa lamented the uncertain future of bullfighting and said he hopes plans by bullfighting supporters to file a lawsuit in Colombia’s Constitutional Court will succeed in blocking the ban.

Animal rights activists had been asking Congress to implement a ban for more than two decades, often losing key votes by narrow margins.

Andrea Padilla, a senator for Colombia’s Green Alliance and longtime champion of animal rights, believes views about spectacles involving animals have changed. She said passing anti-bullfighting legislation was finally possible because Colombia’s first left-wing government put pressure on many legislators to approve it.

Padilla questioned the arguments of bullfighting aficionados, who praise bulls for their bravery and say their destiny is to die with honor in the ring.

“I don’t understand how you can raise an animal to see it destroyed in a public event,” she said.

Colombia’s president had attempted to ban bullfights since 2012, when he was mayor of Bogota and revoked a contract granted to promoters to use the city’s bullring, which can seat around 14,000 people.

Bullfights stopped in Bogota while Petro was mayor, but they resumed after his term ended, thanks to a court decision that said shutting down the bullring violated the rights of aficionados to express their cultural heritage.

Still, supporters of bullfighting continued to face barriers in Bogota and other major cities such as Medellin, though Cali, Colombia’s third-largest city, has continued to hold these events on a regular basis.

The last bullfight in Bogota was in March 2020, just before large gatherings were banned due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

“In 2012, Petro arbitrarily shut down the bullring, and since then lots of other smaller towns began to do the same,” said Caqueza, the bullfighter from Choachi.

Cattle ranchers who raise the aggressive and lean bulls used in bullfights have also suffered from the tradition’s decline, and now their future is uncertain.

In the municipality of Mosquera, on the outskirts of Bogota, Gonzalo Sáez de Santamaría runs the Mondoñedo ranch, which has more than 300 head of cattle that include cows, fully grown fighting bulls and their offspring. The ranch was founded in 1923, with five fighting bulls that his great-grandfather brought from Spain by ship.

“What are we going to do with all these cattle?” Sáez de Santamaría asked during a recent visit to his ranch. “For every bull that dies in a ring, there are 10 to 15 more fighting bulls” on Colombian ranches.

He estimates Colombia has more than 30,000 fighting bulls.

Padilla, the green party senator, regrets that the new law — drafted by a member of the president’s Historic Pact coalition — does not specify what should be done with bulls bred for fights, but said she hoped their owners would let them live.

Sáez de Santamaría said fighting bulls, which generally weigh between 800 pounds and 990 pounds and can bring around $5,000 for use in fights, are expensive to maintain. He predicted most ranchers will end up selling their bulls to slaughterhouses.

He said he is contemplating turning his property into a ranch for beef cattle or perhaps into a dairy farm. Or he may just sell it to developers in the area who have been buying up land to put up factories and apartment buildings.

“Bullfights are an ancient ritual with religious origins. It’s sad these these bulls will now have to die in a slaughterhouse,” Sáez de Santamaría said.

There are no reliable statistics in Colombia about how many people make a living from bullfights, so the economic effect of the ban is unclear.

The bill, however, calls on the government to identify people who make a living from bullfighting and finance projects that will help them develop new livelihoods.

Die-hard bullfighter Caqueza said he is not interested in doing anything else.

“If we can’t fight bulls, we are dead in life,” he said.

Suarez writes for the Associated Press.