Bullfighting returns to its largest arena. His future remains in doubt.

At 4:30 p.m., the nearly full crowd of 42,000 people at La Plaza México began whistling restlessly. They had been waiting since May 15, 2022 – a period of 624 days of legal challenges – for the bulls to return to the world's largest bullfighting arena, but faced another delay due to the hundreds of protesters outside.

When the afternoon's parade of the three matadors and their bullfighting entourage finally emerged to greet the fans, the bullring in Mexico City erupted. Then, at 4:58 p.m., the first bull burst out and raced through the ring.

For the next two and a half hours last Sunday, the fans cheered and cheered and shouted 'olé'. smoked cigars, ate grilled meat and fries, drank beer and mezcal, and watched five bulls die with swords in their spines.

“To see it here, the 'olé' and how the square is rumbling, it's indescribable,” said Erik Reyes, 30, a Mexico City resident who was sitting in the stands.

Bullfighting, spread by Spain to its colonies in Latin America in the 16th century, was at the center of a major legal battle over its return to the largest bullfighting city in the largest bullfighting country in the world. That battle has become emblematic of a larger war between tradition and evolving views on animal cruelty.

The legal whiplash continued on Wednesday when a judge temporarily suspended bullfighting at La Plaza México – just days after it resumed. La Plaza México officials challenged the decision.

“No one who goes to a bullfight comes out a better person,” says Jerónimo Sánchez, an animal rights activist.

According to a national bullfighting organization, the first recorded bullfight in Mexico took place in 1526, and 326 plazas or bullrings remain. Since 2013, five of Mexico's 31 states have banned bullfights.

But for almost two years a legal battle had put the future of bullfighting in the country's flagship arena in doubt. Arguing that the “humiliating“The treatment of bulls is harmful to society,” a human rights group successfully convinced a federal judge in 2022 to approve a suspension of bullfighting at La Plaza México, even though the practice is allowed elsewhere in the country.

At the time, Mario Zulaica, 42, a former bullfighter and the bullring's director for the past eight years, was in Spain hiring bullfighters for La Plaza México.

“It came at me like a bucket of cold water,” he said.

In a normal year, La Plaza México would host as many as 30 bullfighting events, Mr. Zulaica said. The site, he added, directly employed 2,000 people and employed thousands of others, including at nearby restaurants and farms that supply the bulls.

After La Plaza México officials appealed the decision, the Mexican Supreme Court revoked the suspension in early December, allowing bullfighting to return while the merits of the case were still being decided. So the square charged ahead and scheduled nine events through the end of March.

On Wednesday, another federal judge thwarted those plans by imposing a new ban on bullfighting in the bullring, following a petition from an animal rights group that argued that bulls should be given the same legal protections as other animals in the country.

Mr. Zulaica later said that La Plaza México's lawyers had already filed an appeal and hoped for a quick resolution. Bullfights were scheduled for Sunday and Monday.

“I'm more surprised than disappointed or sad,” he said. “A person cannot be so intransigent as not to see that there were 40,000 people present who showed that bullfighting is more alive than ever.”

Although there are numerous bullfights elsewhere in the country, Mexico City's bullring is the country's main economic driver for bullfighting and the main stage for a bullfighter's career.

“You risk your life when you make art and create something magical,” said José Mauricio, 39, a Mexican who has been pierced and suffered a broken wrist and ribs during his 18 years as a matador.

Another Mexican bullfighter, Paola San Román, 28, added that the resumption of bullfighting at La Plaza México had been important to highlight “this tradition and this culture.”

Before last Sunday's bullfight, more than 300 protesters held up traffic to La Plaza México, holding signs, drumming and chanting. One sign read: “It's not art. It's torture.”

“No animal should suffer,” said Shantel Delgado, 29, a vegetarian who was dressed like a bull covered in red paint. “They all deserve respect, just like us humans. You can have a job in a different way. For me it is not a tradition. It's an aberration.”

Outside La Plaza México, some protesters spray-painted the walls of the arena (“murderers” was often written) and tried to pry open a fence as police officers in riot gear held it up. They threw water and garbage at the officers, while crowds of fans also headed towards the arena.

Inside La Plaza México, some fans made obscene hand gestures toward the protesters. And throughout the afternoon there were occasional shouts from the stands: “Long live La Plaza México!” and “Long live the freedom of bullfights!”

Mr. Sánchez, the director of Animal Heroes, an organization that launched a “Mexico Without Bullfighting” campaign five years ago, said “political willpower” has contributed to bullfighting bans in some states and municipalities.

From Seville, Spain, Mr. Sánchez, 40, said he would never forget the way a bull cried after being pinned with banderillas (barbed arrows that draw blood and anger the animal) during a bullfight as a teenager. He said his organization wants Mexico's Congress to permanently ban the practice nationally. He argued that it was immoral to have standards for killing a pig during slaughter while still allowing bullfighting to continue.

“We see it as a Roman circus,” Mr. Sánchez said. “We see it as an anachronistic spectacle. The new generations, when bullfighting is banned throughout the world in a few years, will look back with amazement.”

Mr Zulaica said he understands that younger generations may be more aware of the treatment of animals. But, he added, “we are convinced that in a modern and diverse Mexico we must strive for a society of freedoms, of respect and, above all, of tolerance for all cultural expressions – regardless of personal taste.”

José Saborit, the director of a national bullfighting organization called Tauromaquia Mexicana, said the practice remains particularly popular in some smaller towns and that, with the exception of football, no other event regularly draws 30,000 to 40,000 people the way La Plaza México does.

“If we want a world of prohibitions and moral imposition, bullfighting is in danger,” Mr. Saborit said.

Workers in the bullfighting industry care for the bulls by raising and breeding them for years, he added, with only a smaller percentage of mother calves ultimately killed in an arena.

Mr. Reyes, whose grandfather first took him to piazzas in their home state of Veracruz, said he knows bullfighting is not for everyone and that it will “undeniably and unfortunately for those who enjoy it, die out.”

“I'm not against it dying,” he added of bullfighting. 'Sooner or later it will die. But I am against it being banned if there is still a certain following.”

The reopening of La Plaza México ended raw. Andrés Roca Rey, a Peruvian matador, struggled to kill his second and final bull of the night with a sword. After a third warning, Mr. Rey left the ring to loud cheers. When the stands emptied, the bull was returned to the corral, where it was killed and then prepared to be eaten as meat.

The streets around La Plaza México were still bustling with life. People filled food stalls. Others ordered beer from nearby convenience stores to keep the festivities going.

The question remains when and whether spectators can return.

Emiliano Rodriguez Mega reporting contributed.