A CAREFREE swim at the world鈥檚 longest sea beach should never end in tragedy. Yet for too many families visiting Cox鈥檚 Bazar, waves of joy have turned swiftly into waves of grief. A father and son drowned while enjoying the sea. A group of students lost a friend within minutes to the current. A tourist, laughing with friends, was swept away and never returned. Each of these moments carries the same haunting question: could they have been saved? The answer, in many cases, is yes, if lifeguards had been present.
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Lifeguard safety net at risk
THAT fragile safety net is now slipping away. According to a recent national report, Sea-Safe Lifeguard, the only privately run lifeguard service protecting tourists in Cox鈥檚 Bazar, is on the verge of shutting down due to a crippling shortage of funds. Its closure could prove deadly for countless unsuspecting visitors.
Since 2014, Sea-Safe Lifeguard has operated across a mere five-kilometre stretch of the vast beach. Within this limited zone, its trained lifeguards have saved around 800 lives, tourists pulled from the waves, families spared unbearable grief. Yet this vital service is collapsing. Why? Because it costs around Tk15 million (拢110,000) a year to keep it running, a modest sum compared with the millions spent annually on promoting Cox鈥檚 Bazar as a tourist hotspot. To put it into perspective, the annual lifeguard budget is less than the cost of hosting a single mega event at the beach.
And still, the authorities hesitate. The district administration looks away. Hotel owners and tourism operators see no immediate profit. Since the benefits are not tangible in the short term, the urgency is dismissed. This negligence is like untreated diabetes, the damage builds quietly until it strikes fatally.
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Silent epidemic
DROWNING is often misperceived as an isolated mishap. In reality, it is a silent global epidemic. Each year, an estimated 236,000 people lose their lives to drowning, making it a major public health crisis worldwide. It is one of the leading causes of death for children and young people aged between one and 24 years. Globally, drowning ranks as the third leading cause of unintentional injury deaths, accounting for 7 per cent of all such fatalities.
The burden is disproportionately heavy in low- and middle-income countries, which account for over 90 per cent of unintentional drowning deaths. More than half occur in the World Health Organisation Western Pacific and South-East Asia regions, with drowning rates 27鈥�32 times higher than in countries such as the United Kingdom or Germany. These stark inequalities underline the urgent need for investment in prevention and protection.
Bangladesh is among the most affected. Around 19,000 people drown here annually. On average, 50 lives are lost every day, 40 of them children. These are not abstract statistics, they are families broken, futures cut short. Over the past decade alone, more than 2.5 million people have drowned worldwide, according to WHO and UNICEF.
In Cox鈥檚 Bazar specifically, the Centre for Injury Prevention and Research, Bangladesh, reported that by August 2025, 12 people had drowned while swimming at different points along the sea beach. Beyond the beach, another 50 or more drowned across the wider district, with Kutubdia, Ukhiya and Ramu reporting the highest casualties. Each number represents a story of loss, and a moment when lives might have been saved.
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Investment in life
THE irony is inescapable. Bangladesh aspires to boost tourism, branding Cox鈥檚 Bazar as a world-class destination. But what credibility does that dream hold if tourists remain unprotected against the sea鈥檚 most basic dangers? A thriving tourism industry cannot be built on sand; it must be built on safety.
Lifeguards are not a luxury. They are the foundation of trust. Just as aeroplanes cannot take off without trained pilots, Cox鈥檚 Bazar cannot credibly welcome millions of tourists without trained lifesavers on its shores.
The district administration must assume responsibility. Hotel associations and resort owners must pool resources. Tourism businesses must recognise safety not as charity but as shared duty. Lifeguard coverage must extend well beyond five kilometres, equipped with better training, modern gear and sustained public awareness campaigns.
At its heart, the issue is starkly simple. Will Cox鈥檚 Bazar remain a place of joy, or will it continue to turn laughter into mourning? The closure of Sea-Safe Lifeguard is not merely the demise of an institution. It is the death of hope for families who come to the beach trusting that the sea will give them memories, not sorrow. Spending on life-saving services is not wasteful. It is, in the truest sense, a sustainable investment 鈥� in safety, in tourism, and in life itself.
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Lessons from world
ON GOLDEN beaches across the globe, lifeguards stand as unsung guardians, yet their very survival as a service often hangs in the balance. In Australia, Surf Life Saving Australia thrives through a mix of government grants, corporate sponsorships, community donations and volunteerism, showing how shared responsibility can anchor safety. In the United Kingdom, the Royal National Lifeboat Institution sustains lifeboat and lifeguard services almost entirely on donations and volunteers.
Neighbouring countries also offer lessons. India鈥檚 Drishti Marine is a private operator funded through government contracts and tourism stakeholders. Pakistan鈥檚 Pakistan Life Saving Rescue relies on donations. The SwimSafe programme equips children with swimming and survival skills, tackling drowning risks at their roots.
Together, these stories show that lifeguard services are sustained not by a single actor but by hybrids of government, community, NGOs and business working in tandem. Lifeguards are not an expense, they are an investment: in lives saved, in safer beaches and in a tourism economy that can only thrive when it is trusted to protect those it attracts.
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Nafew Sajed Joy is a researcher and writer.
