Late Spanish election result: the anti-bullfighters got 65,705 votes
Those awful bombs in Madrid rather overshadowed a less sensational little story unfolding during the Spanish general election just passed. My brother-inlaw stood for the office of senator on an antibullfighting ticket, and though he stood no chance of winning and never expected to, he did exceptionally well. Here I must pause. I do not want to upset a good friend. My affection for my brother-in-law is equalled only by the affection and regard in which I hold Tristan Garel-Jones and his wonderful family. And Lord Garel-Jones, as the world knows, is the bullfighting correspondent of this magazine. Before you (and he) cry, 'That is not the title under which he writes', let me acknowledge as much. Tristan, who correctly insists that the Spanish do not call the practice bullfighting and see the contest as a kind of dance, a branch more of the arts than of human aggression, is described as The Spectator's laurine correspondent'.
Avidly as I read Tristan's occasional but always elegant contributions, that appellation strikes me as odd. Why taurine? Lord GarelJones is not speaking for the bull. He is not on the bull's side. The odds are not in the bull's favour. Let's face it, the bull gets a pretty raw deal. This is about wiping out bulls, however beautifully. Were Tristan writing in the era when sport for Romans was to send lions into the arena to maul and kill Christians, we should have read his columns with admiration, but I do not think we would have described him as our religious affairs correspondent Likewise Bruce Anderson, another old friend who has tormented me all through our long association by insistently inviting me to join him killing stags in Scotland, which he very well knows I should detest. I would read anything Bruce wrote about stag-hunting but I would not allow him to style himself The Spectator's wildlife correspondent, If Tristan refuses to be associated with the word 'bullfighting', then I think we should call him our matadorean correspondent.
But still I do not wish to upset him. Lord Tebbit, I know, has tried to do so in the letter pages of this magazine, where he dared Tristan to go into the arena and face a bull himself. Tristan refused to be drawn, contrary to my advice, which was to accept Norman's challenge with relish and promise to arrange a contest in which Tristan would be the matador, but only on condition that he would be accompanied by all his fellow Tory pro Europeans as picadors, that the red rag would carry an EU-style circle of gold stars, and that Norman would be the bull. That, however, is not a challenge I would advise Tristan to extend to my anti-bullfighting sister, Deborah, or her Catalan husband, Manel. Debs can be quite fierce and would most likely accept the challenge, have a ring put through her nose, and charge bucking into the bullring with her two offspring, Adam and Maria del Mar, pawing and snorting behind her. I would not fancy any matador's chances against this trio.
Her husband, Manel Macia, a farmer, is a gentle person, but intense in his and his wife's cause. Together they belong to Pacma: the Partit Antitauri Contra el Maltractament Animal, the Catalan section of a nationwide party whose name means 'Party against bullfighting and animal abuse'. In this month's Spanish general election the party put forward 16 of its members as senatorial candidates in 16 provinces.
Contesting these elections there were about 25 parties in all, of which perhaps five might be called mainstream or 'serious' parties in the sense that they really intended to win seats. But Pacma were wholly serious about making a public impact, and Manel was chosen as their candidate for Barcelona — a province much wider than the city itself and extending all the way up to the French border, including much of rural Catalonia and the town of Manlleu, on whose outskirts Manel and Deborah farm and run a tree nursery and landscape-gardening business.
Pacma's slogan (translated into English), runs, 'The animals can wait no longer and deserve no less; how long will you let it happen?' The party (says my niece, Maria del Mar) 'doesn't intend to get in the way of political parties, but to show that there are people who are concerned about animal rights. They only presented one candidate for each of the provinces, to ask for only one of the three votes which a voter is allowed to cast for the senate.' Banning bullfighting was at the centre of their campaign. The pursuit is, of course, famously popular with many Spaniards, including many Catalans, but by no means with all. The issue is controversial in some of Spain, particularly those areas outside the poorer and more traditional south. Huge passions are aroused on both sides of the debate.
Manel is a scholarly man with little experience of public speaking, though public affairs have always interested him. He and my other sister, Belinda (who has been voted on to her village council for one of the mainstream parties), went on a morning's public-speaking course in the city of Barcelona. Manel then gave two speeches, one in Manlieu and one in Barcelona. This was brave. With placards and gory photographs, he and Deborah took a stand in what is really the Trafalgar Square of the city, Placa Catalunya, and handed out leaflets. This was even braver. Then they took the train to Madrid to join his party's other 15 candidates, where Manel made another speech and gave interviews to the print and broadcast media. Beyond this there was little they could do but wait.
I was in Baghdad by the time the election came, and the bombing in Madrid had eclipsed other political themes; but I threw a thought for Manel to the desert winds, for being a minority candidate is a lonely business, and none of us really knew whether he could hope for a hundred, a thousand, or ten thousand votes. Let Maria del Mar take up the story: 'We were specially happy because we came just after the five big parties, and although we didn't get in the Senate, Manel got 23,132 (0.78 per cent) votes in Barcelona, and in total the party got 65,705 votes in Spain. We didn't have any spot on TV, being a new and little party, and we only gave out leaflets and stuck up some posters around the towns we knew. Some people even got through to us via the Internet or telephone, to say how wonderful they thought the idea was and that they'd like to help.'
I do not support Pacma. Though I abhor bullfighting and cannot imagine how people could want to watch it, I think the cause should be pursued by argument, not prohibition. But I must admit to being overjoyed by Manel's success and proud of him and my sister.
Matthew Parris is a political columnist of the Times.
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