Finland’s volunteer sea rescue model could face challenges as tourism rises

In Finland, maritime safety is everybody’s business. And the Finnish Lifeboat Institution is a case in point. With its all-volunteer fleet of 1,500 rescuers, 135 boats and 60 local stations, it is operated equally by a three-sector funding model of government funds, private donations and boater memberships. But as northern waters grow busier with longer summers and rising tourist traffic, can this whole-society model stay sustainable?

Bågaskär becomes hub for training and rescue

It’s a calm autumn day at the Finnish Lifeboat Institution’s island base at Bågaskär in Inkoo. Out on the archipelago, cormorants perch on the rocks and the last of the migratory birds prepare to fly south. Former Chair Kyösti Vesterinen recalls the turning point in the early 2000s, when the Finnish Border Guard withdrew from the area and locals feared losing vital support. With backing from the Slot Machine Association and private donors, the Institution was able to build a new EUR 4.5 million operations, rescue and training centre on Bågaskär, now its only permanent base.
“Resilience isn’t just the government’s job,” says Vesterinen. “It’s built by the whole society with volunteers, companies and the state working together.”

Part of a wider Nordic approach

The Bågaskär model is part of a shared Nordic approach to maritime safety, with volunteer lifeboat organisations working alongside coast guards and local authorities across the region. According to CEO Jori Nordström the cooperation runs deep. Crews from across the region train together and take part in regular exchanges. Most recently at Bågaskär, teams from seven countries joined exercises. New rescue vessels for Iceland’s Lifeboat Association are also being built in Kokkola, Finland, and Finnish training standards — recognised in national law — are now used as a reference by Nordic partners.

“Across the Nordics the model is the same,” Nordström says. “We lean on each other because distances and conditions demand it.”

A third of rescues, thousands of missions

Finland’s Lifeboat Institution handles around a third of all water rescues in the country, working alongside the Finnish Border Guard and regional fire brigades, responding to about 2,000 calls a year on sea and lake. Most are for technical failures or groundings, but around 20 to 40 of them are life-saving. “Without our volunteers, many of those people wouldn’t make it home,” Nordström says.

The Institution’s EUR 6 million annual budget is split between state support on one side, and private donations together with Trossi boater membership fees. The Trossi is Finland’s answer to roadside assistance for boats.

In Finland, maritime safety is everybody’s business. And the Finnish Lifeboat Institution is a case in point. With its all-volunteer fleet of 1,500 rescuers, 135 boats and 60 local stations, it is operated equally by a three-sector funding model of government funds, private donations and boater memberships. But as northern waters grow busier with longer summers and rising tourist.

A formative rescue

Nordström’s own rescue story began early. At fifteen, he was called out with his local lifeboat crew near Kaunissaari, east of Helsinki, after a motorboat collided with a sailing vessel. Two people had lost their lives by the time they arrived. “It was a hard school,” Nordström recalling the experience that helped shape his sense of duty. “I had a good mentor back then and I just had to do my best to help clear up the accident site.”

Years later, when Nordström joined the organization as a staff member he worked under the leadership of Captain Raimo Tiilikainen, who had been head of rescue operations during the 1994 Estonia ferry disaster — one of the Baltic’s worst maritime disasters, when 852 lives were lost.

Tragedy brought rescue reforms

The Estonia catastrophe exposed the need for stronger international coordination across the Nordic region. “That night changed everything,” Nordström says. “It showed us how vital coordination is when several nations are involved, and how quickly we have to adapt.”

One reform example developed by Finland and its partners during the rescue became known as the Baltic ACO model for managing helicopter rotations during mass-rescue operations — a system now standard worldwide. Other new training and leadership protocols were also introduced in the aftermath of the Estonia, which Nordström chose as the study topic for his master’s thesis.

 Nordström says the strength of the network also feeds into Finland’s wider crisis readiness. In a time of heightened geopolitical tension, the Border Guard could be called elsewhere in the event of a regional conflict or border incident. “Preparedness is in our DNA,” he says. “We’ve built the systems and the mindset to respond, whatever the situation.”

But can the system keep pace?

Longer summers, shifting weather patterns and heavier boat traffic are all adding pressure to northern waters. Visit Finland statistics show a steady rise in international tourism, with nearly five million foreign trips in 2024 and leisure travel up by eight percent compared with the previous year. “The number of rescue calls has doubled in the last ten years,” Vesterinen says. For now, volunteer networks in Finland and across the region are admired and remain cost-effective examples of whole-society resilience. But whether they can keep pace as seas grow busier is a question the North will have to answer together.