The Battle for Italy’s Shorelines: Who Controls the Sand?
Wanderstayfinder.com – Strolling along Italy’s coastline feels like wandering through a living spectrum of color. The shoreline becomes a patchwork of distinct zones where parasols and sun loungers are arranged in precise sequences—first crimson, then amber, followed by golden, emerald, and beyond. These celebrated bagni, officially designated as concessioni balneari, represent a uniquely Italian approach to seaside leisure. The experience is straightforward yet refined. Early each morning, workers smooth the sand with meticulous care. A nearby bar fills the air with gentle melodies while offering cocktails and seafood. Visitors might encounter a ping-pong table or a volleyball court. Some establishments even maintain swimming pools. Orderliness defines every aspect of these beachfront properties.
Pricing follows theatrical precision. Loungers positioned near the water command rates twice as high as those closer to refreshment areas. During the current season in Milano Marittima, situated along the less celebrated Adriatic shoreline, a parasol paired with two chairs costs €30 near the bar but reaches €60 by the sea. Generations of families secure the same spots annually, sometimes requiring visitors to traverse considerable distances before discovering a spiaggia libera—a public beach where anyone may spread their towel or erect their own umbrella. Such free areas typically occupy remote locations, often adjacent to estuaries, unattractive landscapes, or rocky transitions. Litter frequently accumulates here, and facilities like lifeguards and restrooms remain scarce.
A Nation Divided by the Sea
The tension between privatized and public beaches has escalated into a national debate concerning the management of Italy’s nearly 8,000 kilometers of coastline. Approximately 30,000 lidos dot the shores, and according to a 2022 Legambiente analysis, roughly 43 percent of sandy beaches now belong to private enterprises. Danilo Ruggiero, who leads the Mare Libero initiative, observes that these spaces have evolved into miniature resort destinations featuring pools, parking facilities, fitness centers, dining venues, and retail outlets.
“Beaches have been transformed into little resorts – these complexes can include swimming pools, car parks, gyms, restaurants and clothes shops.”
Ruggiero resides in Ostia, west of Rome, where he describes 80 percent of the shoreline as “the united states of lidos.” Barriers including walls, gates, fences, and hedges surround these areas, restricting entry and obstructing ocean views for extended stretches.
Tuscany and Romagna emerge as regions with the highest concentration of privatized beaches. Forte dei Marmi on Tuscany’s western coast allocates 94 percent of its beachfront to resorts. Adjacent municipalities Pietrasanta and Camaiore reach 98.8 percent and 98.4 percent respectively. Gatteo a Mare along the Adriatic previously maintained zero public beach space; following citizen protests, it now offers 1.4 percent—approximately 10 meters within a total of 700 meters.
Crime, Tourism, and Public Access
Operating a lido generates substantial profits, frequently through cash transactions, making these ventures appealing to organized crime networks. Consequently, the movement advocating for expanded free beaches intersects with broader anti-mafia efforts. Simultaneously, the debate connects to concerns about overtourism—how to prevent beloved destinations from becoming commercialized theme parks while ensuring equitable access for all visitors.
Bacoli occupies the northwestern extremity of the Gulf of Naples. This remarkable yet geologically volatile municipality features concentric rings of crater lakes and rocky peninsulas formed by both active and dormant volcanic activity. The entire settlement rests upon the shifting magma of the Phlegraean Fields, where ground movement known as bradyseism regularly elevates or lowers roads and structures, creating fissures and depressions.
“Here,” Fabio Ciciliano, the national head of Italy’s civil protection department, tells me, “they’re not living on a volcano but inside one.”
The municipality’s mayor, 39-year-old Josi Gerardo Della Ragione—affectionately called Josi—compares his town’s experience to a board game of chance, where fortune dictates outcomes much like snakes and ladders. Della Ragione has achieved national recognition for his campaign to reclaim Bacoli’s beaches from commercial interests. Until recently, his town’s shoreline belonged almost entirely to private operators, with residents unable to access the sea without purchasing expensive day passes or membership credentials. The mayor’s efforts have transformed this situation, though challenges remain in balancing tourism revenue with public rights.
As Italy continues grappling with these competing priorities, the question persists: who truly owns the nation’s relationship with its coastline? The answer will shape not only beach access but also the cultural identity of a country defined by its relationship with the sea.
