Opponents argue the corrida, as it's known, is nothing more than ritualised slaughter, with no place in a nation that claims to be one of the world's cultural centres. They cite the unfair advantage of the matador, with bulls frequently given tranquillisers and laxatives to sedate them before fights, and petroleum jelly sometimes rubbed into the animals' eyes to hamper vision. The inevitable death, critics maintain, is almost never swift, with only the most skilful matadors able to kill the bull with one thrust of the sword.

But to aficionados, bullfighting is an ancient and culturally important spectacle that pits man (and occasionally woman) against beast, the matador relying on skill and what the crowd calls ''cojones'' balls.

It is an old debate: tradition versus modernity, culture versus cruelty, like rodeos in America (and Australia), and foxhunting in Britain.

And while the bullfight is still exempt from Spain's anti-animal cruelty laws, recent developments suggest the anti-corrida movement may be gaining the upper hand. Last year Spain's public broadcaster, TVE, announced it was scrapping live coverage of bullfights for the first time ever, deeming them unsuitable for younger viewers. Bullfighting has been struggling to attract younger fans for years, and opponents hope less media coverage will lead to the sport's eventual extinction.

In Catalonia, a region with a long history of opposition to the corrida, children under the age of 14 are now prohibited from attending fights. In 2004, Barcelona city councillors voted in a historic secret ballot to oppose fights in the city, considered the first step to a formal ban on bullfighting there. And in perhaps the most poignant comment on how local values have changed, the city's premier bullring is currently being converted into a shopping complex.

But Catalonia, many locals proudly tell you, is not Spain.

It is no coincidence that a region with separatist aspirations is trying to distance itself from a quintessentially Spanish icon. ''We are forging our own, distinctly Catalan identity based not on the outdated public slaughter of animals, but on the arts, music and architecture,'' boasted one of the Barcelona councillors who voted against the corrida.

Luis Corrales, president of the pro-bullfighting group Defensa de la Fiesta, sees nationalism as the major factor behind Catalonia's campaign to end bullfights.

''The anti-corrida movement exists throughout Spain,'' he said. ''But what makes it so strong in Catalonia is that it has gained support from nationalist and separatist groups who identify the image of bullfighting with the image of Spain.''

The Catalans are not alone. In Galicia, Spain's Celtic region where nationalism is on the rise, the corrida is on the wane. The Basques prefer to be chased by bulls through the streets of Pamplona than provoke them with red rags, while in the Canary Islands the corrida is forbidden by law.

The idea of the bullfight as a symbol of centralised oppression is not a new one. Native to Andalusia and Castile, bullfighting has always been most popular in these regions loyal to Madrid's rule. During his 36-year reign, right-wing dictator General Francisco Franco called bullfighting ''la fiesta nacional'', and cleverly promoted a nationwide cycle of events to instil unity in a country with fiercely distinct regional identities.

But since Franco's death in 1975, successive socialist governments have granted greater autonomy to the regions, with some (particularly Catalonia and the Basque country) keen to shed themselves of anything ''Spanish''.

Yet while the corrida faces an uncertain future in regions opposed to Madrid's rule, in the capital itself it seems stronger than ever. Las Ventas bullring is the Mecca of the sport, a colosseum built in 1929, the handsome red bricks of which resemble a Moorish castle rising from the streetscape. Here every May and June the San Isidro festival is held to venerate the city's patron saint, a man, somewhat ironically, known for his kindness to animals.

Bullfights are held nearly every day of the festival, with tickets notoriously hard to obtain. Inside, a distinctly well-heeled members of the crowd shade themselves in white bowler hats while they suck on cigars and noisily eat peanuts. As the matador proves his machismo, there is no talk of regional domination or cruelty; just a stunning chorus of ''ole{aac}''.

The crowd has come to see death in the afternoon, and with fights at the festival nearly always sold-out, it seems hard to imagine corridas here ending any time soon.

But Robert Cogswell, from the European arm of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, is convinced that San Isidro isn't representative of bullfighting's popularity, as most of the spectators are naive tourists. Cogswell sees the corrida's death as imminent, citing the ever-increasing number of Europeans voicing their opposition to the event.

''There are now 49 towns in Spain and France that have declared themselves anti-bullfighting,'' he said.

''The truth is, the bullfighters are a minority and becoming a smaller minority every year.''

North of the Pyrenees, the same debate is raging. In France, corridas are permitted in a handful of southern towns that can prove an ''uninterrupted local tradition'' of the event. As in Madrid, attendances are strong, prompting an aggressive campaign by opponents.

Last season, France's Society for the Protection of Animals waged a war on the corrida, unfurling protest banners from planes over the bullfighting cities of Dax, Arles and Nimes. An accompanying gruesome television advertisement proved so controversial that the country's bureau for advertising standards banned it from the box, considering it too shocking for audiences. When the French season starts later this northern summer, even bigger protests are planned.

SPA maintains that, cruelty aside, bullfighting in France should stop because it is economically unviable. According to the organisation's website, the industry would collapse if it didn't receive the equivalent of more than $A486,800 (300,000 euros) in state funds every year.

In Spain, the cost is reckoned to be even higher ($860,300 according to PETA). Because regulations in that country stipulate that fighting bulls must grow up with 15,000sqm to themselves, raising a bull can top $19,400 and that's even before it enters the ring. Once it does, if deemed to under-perform, breeders can and do incur heavy losses, with some estates only able to survive thanks to a lifeline from the Spanish treasury.

The Spanish Government remains tight-lipped about changing its stance on the corrida. While Socialist Prime Minister Jose{aac} Luis Rodriguez Zapatero has been accused by the National Association of Bullfight Organisers of launching a ''shameless attack on culture'' for his role in TVE's scrapping of live bullfights, it seems unlikely there will be a state-led move to ban the sport, especially while King Juan Carlos is one of its biggest fans.

One solution would be to take the kill out of the corrida (as in Portugal), thus appeasing animal activists while maintaining the pomp and ceremony of this ancient event. But traditionalists react angrily to such calls, questioning why they should have to alter an icon for the sake of political correctness.

Luis Corrales also points out that while the matador may not kill the bull in this form of corrida, the beast will eventually be slaughtered anyway, just behind closed doors.

''Because of this, to talk about taking the kill out of the fight in the name of supposed animal rights clearly doesn't make sense,'' he said.

Hemingway is equally dismissive. Pondering the prospect of a less violent corrida in Death in the Afternoon, he writes, ''My own standpoint is quite simple: I could see the bull had to be killed to make the bullfight.''

The bullfighting debate has even reached Australia. In February, nearly naked members of PETA gathered in front of the Sydney Opera House to protest against the corrida. With bullfighting a minor issue in Australia, the event was aimed at raising awareness for local tourists considering visiting a fight this northern summer.