126 drownings in Spain this summer reignite prevention debate

126 drownings in two months: Summer reopens prevention debate

The summer leaves a trail of deaths that rarely makes the evening news. 126 people have drowned at bathing spots in Spain between June and July, a figure that, according to industry data, doubles the historical average of recent years, with August still ahead. The question is not whether these numbers are high or low, but why they repeat every season with the same ritual of ignored red flags, rescues, and institutional laments.

The figures circulating in public discourse point to an uncomfortable pattern. Against the roughly 400 annual drownings previously recorded, this start to the season breaks the trend. It does so, moreover, in the month when the Mediterranean becomes a brothel at nearly 30 degrees, a detail some analyses consider relevant: higher temperature means lower water density and worse buoyancy.

Why do more men drown than women?

Most victims are men. This is the least emphasized statistic yet the one that best explains the phenomenon. The explanation circulating among rescue analysts is not cultural but almost physical: men have more muscle mass and denser bones, both of which tend to sink; women accumulate more fat, which floats. Added to this is a behavioral variable: overestimation of one's own ability. The forty-something who swam well as a youth enters the water with a yellow flag and chest-deep waves because he believes he is still twenty.

The calculation is cruel. The strength and endurance possessed at twenty are not those of sixty, but the mind does not update itself. And in the sea, that discrepancy is paid for in minutes.

Rip currents, red flags, and the old excuse of recklessness

The second major block of the issue is ignorance of the environment. Many bathers learn to swim in pools and transfer that confidence to rivers, reservoirs, and beaches where the rules are different. Rip currents on the Atlantic coast, which pull inward rather than toward the shore, surprise those unfamiliar with them and unable to escape by swimming parallel to the coastline.

To this is added a profile that concentrates general disdain: the bather who pays bubble prices for his apartment, arrives at the beach, sees the red flag, and decides it is nonsense from lifeguards trying to spoil the fun. The sea is calm, he thinks. And he goes in.

How much does preventing a drowning cost?

Here the debate becomes economic, which justifies discussing it in terms of public spending. The lingering question is how much it would cost to staff thousands of kilometers of coastline, rivers, and reservoirs with lifeguards and surveillance. The short answer is that no budget covers it. The long answer is that the alternative—helicopter rescues for a twisted ankle, search devices, and emergency operations—is not free either.

Some argue the problem is not resources but individual responsibility: once a lifebuoy is placed on every beach, the bather stops looking out for himself. The argument has its logic and its trap. Because the other side is that a society treating its citizens like children eventually behaves as such.

The pending lesson nobody wants to teach

The proposal generating the most consensus, albeit reluctantly, is teaching swimming and reading the sea in school as a mandatory subject, instead of leaving physical education in its current limbo. Some schools already teach children to ride bicycles, a task theoretically belonging to parents. Extending this to swimming and water safety does not seem unreasonable.

What generates immediate rejection is the bureaucratic route: a swimming certificate or permit to access the beach or pool, with corresponding authorities verifying compliance. The reaction is unanimous: we are treated as diminished and end up behaving as diminished.

The hoax that never fails to appear

No collective tragedy escapes its conspiracy theory. In this case, the accusation that drownings are a consequence of vaccines circulates through the usual channels, without any evidence to support it. It is the background noise accompanying any debate on preventable deaths and should be identified for what it is: an unproven hypothesis.

Summer is not over. August lies ahead, and the June and July figures already mark a record nobody wanted. If the trend continues, the season will close with a balance that puts the same questions back on the table: how much prevention are we willing to pay for, and how much responsibility are we willing to accept? Given the data, the answer does not invite optimism.