Dear friends, good day to you all!
Greece has finally adopted a Regulation on Fire Protection for Archaeological Sites.
This is, of course, a positive development. In a country that is home to some of the world’s most important archaeological sites and is plagued every summer by devastating wildfires, the existence of a specialized framework for prevention and protection should not even be news. And yet it is. Not because it was established, but because it was established only now.
This is an absolutely necessary initiative. The establishment of risk assessment procedures, prevention plans, firefighting measures, staff training, and the organized evacuation of visitors is a self-evident obligation for a country that is home to one of the world’s most significant archaeological treasures.
Yet there is one question that hangs over every celebratory announcement: Why now?
Why did it take nearly twenty years, following the near-destruction of ancient Olympia by the 2007 wildfires?
Because Greece did not discover wildfires or its ancient sites this year. In the summer of 2007, the country experienced one of the greatest natural disasters in its modern history. The flames reached the heart of the Peloponnese, and Ancient Olympia was saved literally at the last minute. It was saved by the superhuman efforts of those who were there. It was saved by a stroke of luck. It was saved, as many said at the time, by a miracle.
The image of the archaeological site threatened by fire made its way around the world. One would have expected that very experience to serve as a wake-up call. That the government would rush to establish a specialized framework for the protection of archaeological sites. That Olympia would mark the starting point of a new prevention policy.
That did not happen.
Instead, nearly two decades have passed. Two decades during which the country has been put to the test time and time again. With mathematical precision, every summer. With fires in Attica, Euboea, Rhodes, Evros, Corinthia, Chios, and dozens of other regions, many of which are home to archaeological sites.
With increasingly extreme conditions due to the climate crisis. With thousands of stremmata going up in flames. With settlements being evacuated. With visitors fleeing. With the threat returning every year like a scheduled appointment.
And yet, it is only in 2026 that we will have, for the first time, a comprehensive Fire Protection Regulation for Archaeological Sites. “Better late than never,” you might say, and you’d be absolutely right. But even so, it’s still too late—at least for this year’s fire season.
The country’s real problem isn’t that it’s incapable of planning. It’s that it plans only after the danger has already arisen. That it enacts legislation only after a crisis has occurred. That it organizes itself only after it has already been put to the test. And this is precisely where a second question arises: When will all the provisions of the new regulation be implemented? When will the risk assessments for hundreds of archaeological sites be completed? When will the necessary supplies be procured? When will the required equipment be installed? When will the staff be trained? When will the drills take place? When will the evacuation plans be tested in practice?
The answer is rather obvious. Not this year.
This year’s wildfire season has already begun. So the regulation’s true operational value will become apparent, at best, next summer.
The familiar Greek pattern repeats itself. First, the Official Gazette. Then the studies. Next, the procedures. After that, the procurements. And eventually, implementation.
The country often treats the publication of a regulation as proof that a problem has been solved. In reality, at that very moment, the problem is only just beginning to be addressed.
The new Fire Safety Regulation for Archaeological Sites is necessary and welcome. But Ancient Olympia was at risk in 2007. Fires have returned every summer since then. And the country decided to adopt this measure in 2026. That alone speaks volumes.
Perhaps more than what the celebratory announcements suggest. Because ultimately, the crucial question isn’t whether we’ve learned from the fires. It’s how many years it will take Greece to put that lesson into practice.