The annual Tomatina festival in Buñol, Spain, is set to make a triumphant return this summer after a two-year hiatus due to pandemic restrictions. However, this year’s edition comes with a twist—participants will be required to sign a safety protocol agreement before joining the world’s largest tomato fight. The new measures aim to balance the festival’s legendary chaos with modern concerns over crowd control and personal responsibility.

For decades, the Tomatina has drawn thousands of revelers to the small Valencian town, where streets are transformed into rivers of crushed tomatoes. What began as a spontaneous food fight in 1945 has evolved into a globally recognized event, attracting tourists from every corner of the planet. Yet, as its popularity soared, so did the challenges of managing safety in such a frenetic environment. Local authorities now insist that the new rules are not meant to dampen the fun but to ensure the festival’s survival for years to come.

The safety protocol, drafted in collaboration with event organizers and regional officials, includes clauses on prohibited behavior, emergency procedures, and even hygiene recommendations. Participants must acknowledge the risks involved in a mass tomato battle—slippery surfaces, minor injuries, and the occasional overzealous thrower—and agree not to hold the town liable for accidents. "It’s about mutual respect," explains Buñol’s mayor, Rafael Pérez. "We want everyone to enjoy themselves, but we also need to protect both our citizens and our guests."

Critics argue that formalizing the rules strips away the festival’s carefree spirit. Social media has seen debates flare up between purists who cherish the Tomatina’s anarchic roots and pragmatists who believe some structure is inevitable. "You can’t have 20,000 people hurling tomatoes without a few ground rules," says María López, a veteran attendee. "The essence of the festival isn’t in the lack of rules—it’s in the shared madness of the moment."

Logistical adjustments will also be in place this year. The number of tomatoes—typically over 150 tons—will remain unchanged, but distribution points will be more evenly spaced to prevent overcrowding. Medical teams and cleanup crews will be stationed at strategic intervals, a lesson learned from past editions where response times were hampered by the sheer density of the crowd. Additionally, the traditional "ham on a greased pole" contest, which precedes the tomato fight, will have reinforced safety barriers to prevent spectators from tumbling into the fray.

Environmental concerns have also shaped the updated guidelines. In recent years, activists highlighted the waste generated by the festival, prompting organizers to source tomatoes deemed unfit for sale but still biodegradable. This year, volunteers will oversee post-event cleanup efforts, ensuring that the pulpy aftermath doesn’t harm local ecosystems. "It’s a messy tradition, but it doesn’t have to be a harmful one," notes environmental coordinator Javier Ruiz.

For international visitors, the new requirements add an extra step to their preparations. Travel agencies specializing in Tomatina packages now include the safety waiver as part of their booking process, along with advisories on protective gear (goggles are recommended) and clothing (nothing you’d mind ruining). "It’s still the highlight of our summer tours," says travel agent Sophie Hartmann. "People just need to read the fine print before diving into the tomato pit."

As August approaches, Buñol’s streets are already buzzing with anticipation. Shop owners stock up on disposable cameras and cheap T-shirts, while bars prepare for the influx of thirsty tomato warriors. The festival’s return marks more than just a revival of tradition—it’s a test of whether organized chaos can thrive in an era of liability waivers and risk assessments. One thing remains certain: when the cannon fires at 11 a.m. on the last Wednesday of August, the sea of participants won’t be thinking about paperwork. They’ll be too busy laughing, slipping, and painting the town red.