At its core, the live events industry is dangerously accessible. Unlike regulated professions where individuals must meet strict competency, ethical, and training requirements, event organisers can emerge overnight—qualified or not. The Fyre Festival epitomised this risk. A fraudster with zero operational experience orchestrated a global event, fuelled by hype, influencer marketing, and empty promises. The result? Financial disaster, mass public deception, and thousands stranded in unsafe conditions on a remote island.

But the Fyre Festival wasn’t an anomaly—it was a symptom. Across the world, small-scale festivals, concerts, pop-up events, and gatherings are organised by well-meaning but inexperienced individuals with minimal understanding of safety, logistics, or crowd dynamics. Many operate without formal risk assessments, training, or oversight.

The consequences are predictable: overcrowding, inadequate emergency response, insufficient security, and escalating exposure to everything from assaults to infrastructure failures. Even where intentions are good, lack of expertise turns ambition into liability (Kuo, 2024).

Reducing this risk doesn’t mean shutting the door on new organisers—it means raising the floor. Basic competency requirements, scalable risk management training, and minimum standards can preserve entrepreneurial energy while protecting lives.

Imagine building a bridge without engineering qualifications. Absurd? Yet, organising a major event with thousands of attendees—effectively constructing a temporary, complex, high-risk environment—requires no formal credentials in most parts of the world. This double standard has persisted for too long.

In highly regulated industries—medicine, law, construction—professional bodies uphold standards, mandate continual development, and discipline poor practice. Events lack this infrastructure. While some associations exist, membership is voluntary. There is no global equivalent to a Chartered Institute of Event Professionals, no compulsory training pipeline, no universal code of conduct (Silvers et al, 2005).

The consequences extend beyond isolated disasters. A fragmented industry undermines public trust, weakens crisis response, and hampers intelligence sharing. When tragedy strikes, the finger-pointing begins, but prevention often lags.

Yet, as creative industries like film or broadcasting demonstrate, professionalisation does not stifle innovation. Unions, charters, and standards can coexist with entrepreneurial freedom. They set the baseline for safe, ethical practice while enabling excellence to flourish.

Without universal standards, events will continue to depend on luck over leadership. The industry must shift—voluntarily or through regulation—toward a future where professionalism is expected, not optional.

Terrorist attacks at live events are not hypothetical—they are a recurring, devastating reality (De Cauwer et al, 2022). From the Manchester Arena bombing to the Supernova Festival massacre in Israel, one pattern emerges: failures in intelligence sharing can be fatal.

Despite lessons from sectors like critical infrastructure, where governments and private operators now collaborate closely to detect and deter threats, the live events industry remains on the margins of national security systems (Alcaraz & Zeadally, 2015). Organisers are often excluded from vital intelligence, leaving them blind to evolving risks.

Consider the October 2023 Supernova attack. Despite reports of heightened threats, no actionable intelligence reached event planners (Baram & Israel, 2025). Over 300 people died in the resulting assault. Likewise, the Astroworld tragedy, while not terrorism-related, exposed similar gaps in situational awareness and emergency preparedness.

Governments must treat events as part of national security landscapes, not afterthoughts. But this requires trusted, stable, professional organisers capable of handling sensitive information responsibly. The current “wild west” approach undermines that trust.

Robust public-private partnerships, clear communication channels, and shared intelligence protocols are essential. Without them, organisers operate in the dark—and attendees pay the price.

Across the world, where you attend an event often dictates how safe you are. In cities like Sydney or London, organisers face stringent requirements for risk assessments, emergency planning, and, increasingly, counter-terrorism protocols. In contrast, other regions operate with minimal oversight, weak licensing processes, or fragmented enforcement.

Research comparing Australia and Canada illustrates this stark divide. Despite Canada’s higher exposure to gun violence and weaker national security laws, its event regulation is notably less rigorous than Australia’s. In some Canadian jurisdictions, event applications are processed in under four months, leaving little time for thorough risk evaluation. In Australia, six-month lead times and embedded risk management expectations are the norm (Spence, 2024).

This regulatory lottery is not just an administrative issue—it’s a public safety crisis. Attendees cannot be expected to assess the varying standards of each event, nor should their wellbeing depend on geography or luck.

Without consistent, scalable, and enforceable regulation, the events industry will continue to produce avoidable tragedies, particularly in under-regulated regions. Harmonising global standards—while respecting local contexts—is not only achievable, but essential for equitable, safe event experiences worldwide.

While high-profile festivals, stadium concerts, and international sporting events attract the most attention—and often the most resources—the vast majority of the global events economy is powered by small-scale organisers. Farmers markets, street fairs, cultural celebrations, and grassroots festivals shape the vibrancy of communities. But they also represent the most vulnerable frontier for security risks.

Small events face a dual challenge: limited budgets and limited expertise. Many are run by passionate volunteers or micro-businesses without the resources for professional security, insurance, or formal risk assessments. The result? Gaps in crowd control, emergency response, and basic safety infrastructure—gaps that can escalate rapidly under pressure.

However, small events also present the greatest opportunity for scalable, low-cost improvements. Risk management need not always mean heavy policing or expensive barriers. Simple, affordable interventions—such as basic volunteer security training, clear emergency plans, or access to shared resources—can significantly raise safety standards.

Cities like Toronto are already exploring these models, offering funding and training support to grassroots organisers(Drassisma & Manucdoc, 2025). Empowering small events isn’t just a community investment—it’s a frontline defence. When even the smallest gathering prioritises safety, the entire ecosystem becomes more resilient.