Boycott Spain

I was in Barcelona for the Parliament of the World’s Religions in 2004, which was held the week of the running of the bulls in Pamplona. For some reason, on the day-long flight to Spain, I got to be seated next to a 20-something American guy who was going to Pamplona, just for the opportunity to "jab, stab, or punch" one of the bulls. He was so excited to then join the festivities in the arena where the bulls would be killed.

I, naturally, was flabbergasted, to say nothing of saddened. Because I was thinking I was stuck next to him, I didn’t want to make things too uncomfortable for him. After all, he already expressed a love of cruelty and violence.

I suggested that he take the rest of the flight to put himself in the place of the bull–to imagine what it’s like to be abused, exhausted, and dehydrated, then have hundreds of people chase you and beat you into a corner, where they then viciously slaughter you.

Ten minutes later, he got up and found another seat.

More room for me!

But it doesn’t end there. Although several cities have banned bullfighting (where, FYI, the bulls are publicly killed at the end of each "fight"), the slaughter continues, and the government does nothing about it. "Why not?" I naively asked the concierge at my five-star hotel. "They are a tourist attraction–they bring a lot of people, who have a lot of money, and local governments benefit from them."

The most powerful form of activism is the boycott. When you go to a country that hides behind "culture," which they are using as a euphemism for "cruelty-without-consequences," you are supporting the cruelty. Even if you don’t visit the "tourist attraction."

I won’t be returning to Spain, and I’ve written letters to its President, the Mayors of Barcelona and Pamplona, and the Casa de Misericordia (aka, the House of Mercy, which hosts the running and killing of the bulls and many bullfights, and donates the profits to worthy causes) to tell them why.

If we remain silent, we condone what they do. We must speak up for those with no voice.