Lorraine Williamson
Each summer, Pamplona erupts into nine days of euphoria, colour and chaos as it honours its patron saint, San Fermín. But behind the sea of white and red, fireworks and fiestas, a centuries-old tradition is sparking heated debate—should the running of the bulls still have a place in modern Spain?
From 6–14 July, this northern Spanish city becomes the epicentre of one of Europe’s most famous festivals. Tourists pour in, streets are transformed, and the morning ritual of sprinting alongside half-tonne bulls through cobbled alleys unfolds daily. For some, it’s cultural heritage. For others, it’s a brutal relic of the past.
A Saint, a city, and a shift in the calendar
San Fermín was a third-century bishop, born in Pamplona but martyred in Amiens, France. His relics were returned to Navarra in the 12th century, and over time, veneration took root. Originally observed in October, his feast was moved to July in 1591 to coincide with the town’s summer fair—merging sacred ritual with secular celebration.
The result? A festival that has grown into one of Spain’s most recognisable, blending faith, folklore and full-blown fiesta.
Where did the bull run begin?
The encierro—or running of the bulls—emerged in the Middle Ages when cattle were herded through the city to the bullring. Over time, thrill-seeking youths began racing ahead of the animals. The route was formalised in 1852, and by 1899, the first official run took place.
It wasn’t until 1926, when Ernest Hemingway immortalised it in The Sun Also Rises, that the event gained international fame. Today, thousands brave the 875-metre dash through the old town each morning at 8.00 am.
The opening salvo: Chupinazo
Festivities erupt at noon on 6 July with the Chupinazo—a ceremonial rocket fired from the Town Hall balcony after a thunderous call: “¡Viva San Fermín! Gora San Fermín!” The crowd answers in unison, red scarves held high, and nine days of revelry begin.
The following morning, the saint’s statue is paraded through the streets in a solemn procession, flanked by locals in traditional attire, giants on stilts, and brass bands playing folk tunes.
Pride, profit and the pulse of tradition
For many residents, San Fermín is more than spectacle—it’s identity. The festival draws more than a million visitors and brings an economic windfall to Pamplona’s hospitality sector. Supporters argue it’s a celebration of courage, community and Navarran culture.
Locals defend the tradition, noting that the bulls are bred specifically for the event and pointing to the stringent rules in place. “It’s part of who we are,” say many.
A Growing Chorus of Dissent
Yet each year, criticism mounts. Animal welfare groups like PETA denounce the festival as barbaric, highlighting the physical and psychological distress caused to the animals. Injuries during the run are common; deaths are not unheard of.
Young Spaniards, increasingly vocal on ethical issues, are turning their backs on bull-related festivities. Cities such as Barcelona and Palma have already banned bullfighting altogether. The tide may be turning.
The lesser-known moments
Away from the media spotlight, San Fermín includes several quieter customs:
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El Encierrillo: A silent, late-night herding of bulls to the starting point of the run.
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Las Dianas: Early morning musical wake-up calls by the municipal band.
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Riau-Riau: An informal dance through the city, once banned due to political tensions but still cherished by many.
These traditions, rooted in community, often hold more meaning for locals than the international headline acts.
Food, drink and the flavour of fiesta
San Fermín is also a culinary celebration. Stalls and tabernas serve up bacalao al ajoarriero (cod with garlic and peppers), rabo de toro (oxtail stew), and pochas a la navarra (tender white beans with seasonal veg). For breakfast, it’s churros dipped in thick hot chocolate.
Locals sip pacharán, a Navarran liqueur made from sloe berries, or calimotxo, a heady mix of red wine and cola, especially popular among younger revellers.
Highlights from the July 2025 programme
6th: Chupinazo launches the festivities.
7th–14th: Daily bull runs at 8.00 am sharp.
7th: Saint’s Day procession.
10th: Children’s Day, with traditional dance and puppet shows.
11th: A concert dedicated to elderly residents.
14th: Candlelit Pobre de Mí ceremony marks the close.
Concerts, firework displays, street theatre and regional dancing fill the squares nightly, particularly Plaza del Castillo and Plaza de los Fueros.
Final farewell: Pobre de Mí
As midnight strikes on 14 July, crowds gather once more in front of the Town Hall. Holding candles and singing “Pobre de mí, pobre de mí, que se han acabado las fiestas de San Fermín,” the atmosphere shifts from frenzy to reflection.
Scarves are removed. Hugs replace horns. The chant of “Ya falta menos”—“There’s not long to go”—offers a hopeful nod to next year.
Tips for first-timers
Dress in white with a red scarf and waistband. Leave valuables behind, opt for comfy shoes, and arrive early for good views. If you want to witness the bull run safely, consider renting a balcony spot.
A festival caught between past and future
San Fermín remains one of Spain’s most iconic festivals, but it’s also a symbol of a society wrestling with its identity. While some fight to preserve tradition, others call for reform—or abolition.
As Spain continues to grapple with questions of animal welfare, generational change and tourism ethics, Pamplona’s festival stands at a cultural crossroads. One thing is certain: whatever the future holds, the red and white tide of San Fermín won’t fade quietly.
Fiestas, ferias, and celebrations in Spain 2025
Sources: Barcelonaclubbing.com, Spain.info, ELPAÍS