Tourists flee but resilient locals stay

On a calm summer day on Santorini in July 1956, the ground turned against its people.

“I remember our dog and bird acting strangely. Then, the earthquake struck,” 83-year-old Eirini Mindrinou recalls, her voice steady but distant, as if trying to grasp a memory that never truly faded. “The house split open before closing again. Through the crack in the roof, I could see the sky.”

The 7.8-magnitude earthquake, which struck between Santorini and the nearby island of Amorgos, destroyed much of the island, and a powerful aftershock 12 minutes later finished what little remained. Fifty-three people died. The island, then just a quiet fishing village, was scarred and its people fled.

It is much different today, rebuilt into one of Greece’s most coveted tourists destinations – but this week, another mass exodus unfolded. Subtle tremors that had begun in June 2024 turned into full-fledged earthquakes, some exceeding 4.0 on the Richter scale, shaking homes and unsettling the island’s residents. Families rushing to leave by air and sea, desperately seeking respite as the ground shook once again.

But not everyone is fleeing. Those that remain display the mix of courage, necessity, and a deep connection to the land that has come to define the locals of this island. They endure sleepless nights, haunted by memories of the past and the terrifying unknown of what’s yet to come.

“The noise from the earthquake, the sounds of [other people’s] homes breaking apart – it’s unbearable. Even in my house, it’s become overwhelming,” says Margarita Karamolegkou, a local businesswoman. “I’ve felt tired, day after day, with no end in sight… But I haven’t felt fear. I can’t leave my home, and I can’t leave the people who’ve stayed behind.”

This resilience is nothing new. People have have withstood both social change -about 3.4 million visited the island last year, according to Mayor Nikos Zorzos – and seismic shifts. Now, as always, they have come together in solidarity.

“We’re doing our best to support the vulnerable,” says Matthaios Fytros, a local volunteer and merchant. “People with disabilities, the elderly – many struggle to get around, and their homes are hard to reach. If a major earthquake hits, I know exactly where they live, and I’ll get to them as fast as I can, alongside the firefighters.”

Matthaios and others patrol the island, ensuring abandoned properties aren’t looted and helping anyone in need. “I’m not afraid,” he says with quiet conviction. “We’re proud of our island. I just hope everything works out and that this ordeal ends soon. We’ll be happy to have our visitors back with us.”

The response of the state has been swift, with measures taken to address the crisis. Beneath the gratitude for the government’s intervention, however, lingers a quiet bitterness. Many islanders recall the years when their cries for better infrastructure and support went unheard.

“For years, we’ve been asking for a better port, something to help us manage the growing number of tourists,” Margarita says, her voice tinged with frustration. “We need help preserving the island’s identity – its unique environment, the seismic and volcanic forces that shape it. We’re grateful for the tourists, but we also need to protect what makes Santorini special.”

Tourism has become the lifeblood of Santorini’s economy. The island contributes around 2.5% to Greece’s GDP, approximately 5.9 billion euros (£4.9 billion) each year.

As the tremors continue, the future of Santorini’s economy remains uncertain. Will its prosperity withstand the shaking ground? The people of Santorini worry that the island’s fragility may soon extend beyond the land itself.

“I regret how haphazard the island’s development has been with the rise in tourism,” says Eirini, who is temporarily in Athens, not out of fear, but for routine medical tests. “We’ve damaged the natural environment here. Now, with the earthquakes continuing, there’s a real risk we could lose the entire tourist season.”

Scientists may not know when the shaking will stop, but instead of succumbing to fear, some residents have chosen to understand the phenomenon, hoping that will bring them reassurance in the face of the unknown.

“I try to think of what’s happening with kindness,” Margarita says thoughtfully. “It feels like something is settling down there. Everything we admire about Santorini today – the beauty, the character – has been shaped by the volcano and its seismic forces.”

“We are the most beloved island,” says Matthaios, his voice full of pride. “And I believe we’re the most beautiful of all the islands in Greece. We will get out of this stronger.”