This July, I visited Pamplona, Spain. It was my first time participating in the Running of the Bulls, and my first time witnessing up close the life-and-death struggle between the bull and the matador in the bullring. Six bulls' lives were taken right before my eyes, and the artificially created jubilation made me feel even more alienated from my surroundings.
From this bullfighting, revered by Spaniards as their national sport, one can indeed witness the tension and danger between humans and beast. However, as it has evolved over time, this confrontation is now entirely based on the premise that humans are "relatively safe" and have a "high chance of winning." For centuries, humans have researched the weaknesses of bulls, contemplating ways to weaken them before presenting them to the matador. They have honed their skills to deliver a death blow straight to the heart, after depleting most of the bull's strength.
How can the most ferocious beast stand against the skills that humans have honed over centuries?
How can any attack penetrate an opponent protected by nearly impenetrable defenses?
When I stood in the Roman Colosseum, I felt a deep admiration for the slaves who bravely battled against ferocious beasts, fighting not only for their lives but also for their freedom. Yet, as I sat in the bullring, I couldn't comprehend the purpose behind the loss of life. But then again, is there ever a need for a reason? In a world dominated by humans, whatever satisfies their desires becomes the so-called truth.