ATLANTIS - The Enigma of the Lost Continent
A fascinating but unreliable theory, "proven" with elements of mythology, controversial archaeological finds, ambiguous geological theories, and space-related hypotheses, has led many writers to identify the so-called "Bimini Road" as the remains of the lost continent; this formation consists of enigmatic stone slabs on the seabed off the coast of Florida, which appear to have been shaped by human hands.
While the theory of a lost continent in the Atlantic has flourished in "popular" or "esoteric" media, complete with inevitable tales of cosmic clashes or explosions of extraterrestrial ships, the scientific community has given much more consideration to a theory placing Atlantis in the western Mediterranean, specifically in the Cyclades archipelago, an area now occupied by the island of Santorini.
It has long been known that Santorini is all that remains of a much larger island destroyed by a catastrophic volcanic explosion: ancient Thera is known to have erupted with a force that expelled 18 cubic kilometers of magma. Similar to the more recent Krakatoa eruption, Thera’s explosion left behind only a blackened remnant of rock. In the 1970s, however, radiocarbon dating allowed scientists to date, with minimal margin of error, a tree trunk found buried in volcanic ash, placing the eruption around 1456 BC.
This date aligned with a theory proposed a few years earlier by Angelos Galanopoulos. Analyzing certain episodes from the Bible (such as the "three days of darkness," earthquakes, and the parting of the Red Sea), the Greek geologist concluded that a volcanic explosion must have affected the entire eastern Mediterranean around that time. According to Galanopoulos, multiple transcriptions of Plato’s text contained an error that had multiplied the original figures by ten. This correction suggested that the area of Atlantis could be identified with that of Thera and, by reading 900 years instead of 9000 years, the timeframe for Atlantis's disappearance would coincide with the era of the eruption that destroyed the island.
Adding further weight to this hypothesis was the discovery on Santorini of a mysterious fresco lying beneath layers of volcanic ash: it depicts an island, lush with plants and crops, rich in animals, inhabited by a prosperous civilization with opulent cities and bustling sea traffic, crossed by concentric waterways. This image strongly recalls Plato’s description of Atlantis: arranged in concentric circles of harbor canals and streets lined with magnificent palaces, rich in commerce, and flourishing thanks to a favorable natural environment.
After careful study, in 1973, geologist Dorothy Vitaliano highlighted how the topography of Atlantis described by Plato matched perfectly with what Thera’s landscape would have looked like: a caldera formed by a volcanic eruption centuries before.
Finally, the pieces of the Atlantis puzzle began to outline a convincing hypothesis: the destruction of Thera, the main naval base of the Minoan Empire, and the ensuing tsunami that struck Crete and the shores of the central-eastern Mediterranean led first to the decline and then the disappearance of Minoan civilization and its dominance over the Mediterranean, paving the way for Mycenaean ascendancy. This overwhelming volcanic event likely inspired the legends of Jason and the Minotaur and Plato's account, as well as those mentioned in the Bible.
Of course, proponents of the lost continent in the Atlantic vehemently dispute the identification of Atlantis with Thera. They offer many arguments, some of which are quite compelling. The main argument is that locating the lost continent in the Mediterranean—an idea that would reduce Atlantis to a mere island—is not credible. The academic justification hinges on Plato placing Atlantis under the protection of Poseidon and Heracles (gods associated with the Aegean), which would be implausible, as would the suggestion of reducing Plato's figures by a tenth to align the eruption date with that of the Exodus from Egypt—an event that, according to recent research, likely occurred not in 1470 BC but 150 years earlier.
The nature of Thera's eruption, as evidenced by archaeological excavations, also excludes the suddenness of the catastrophe described by Plato. For example, no human remains, jewelry, or valuable objects were found in the excavated houses on Santorini, suggesting that the inhabitants had ample time to gather their belongings before fleeing.
Tools and food supplies were discovered in the basements of some houses, possibly stored there to protect them from tremors, indicating that the people of Thera were familiar with earthquakes.
Most likely, the eruption was preceded by a gradual and slow uplift and by weeks or perhaps months of tremors, prompting the population to gradually abandon the island. After this initial phase, the volcanic activity likely subsided, possibly drawing people back to the island, where they repaired the damage and resumed their daily lives.
Evidence of this return is still visible in the excavations at Akrotiri on the southern part of Santorini: a reopened street, rubble piled neatly, a window frame enlarged to become a doorway, an improvised hearth in a house, and a basin moved to the roof, perhaps to collect rainwater. However, reconstruction efforts were interrupted by a resurgence of volcanic activity, and it is likely that the population abandoned Thera for good, possibly relocating to Crete.
At this point, the paroxysmal phase of the eruption began, marked by an extraordinary sequence of events still visible in the lava layers accumulated in a quarry south of Fira, the island’s central town. First, the eruption produced a rain of pumice, followed by larger, red rocks, and finally the distinctive pink pumice that has made Thera famous.
Then, the volcano exploded: a blast of compressed materials and superheated gases shot into the stratosphere, soaring upwards at over 2,000 kilometers per hour. The explosions were certainly heard from Central Africa to Scandinavia, from the Persian Gulf to Gibraltar. Within hundreds of kilometers, the ash cloud turned day into the darkest night and likely affected sunrises, sunsets, and weather conditions worldwide.
The violent ejection of an immense volume of magma emptied the massive magma chamber beneath the island, causing the volcanic structure to collapse. Billions of cubic meters of seawater poured into the scorching abyss, with the rapid vaporization of the water triggering a series of massive explosions that shattered what remained of the island, unleashing immense waves—mountains of water over 60 meters high—that swept across the Mediterranean, crashing into the shores of Crete or as far as the beaches of Egypt.
Was this the end of Atlantis? The final word has yet to be said on this mystery that has fascinated humanity for centuries. However, perhaps we can take to heart the words of a great storyteller: "It is fitting that Atlantis remains a mystery. It is right for humans, when gazing at the ocean, to feel uneasy thinking of a distant, unfathomable kingdom swallowed in a day and night by water and fire—a proud dream of eternity broken by Nature’s awakening. Civilizations are born, grow, and, in the end, perish. Let us prepare for this. Atlantis never truly existed. It is everywhere."
"Catastrophes have always repeated themselves [..] and will always continue to occur, the gravest caused by water and fire. Once, [..] beyond the strait you call the 'Pillars of Hercules,' there was an island larger than Asia and Libya combined, and from it, one could pass to other islands and from these to the continent beyond. [..] This island, named Atlantis [..], in the span of a single terrible day and night, vanished into the depths."
These fragments of Plato's text recount a story passed down by Solon, who in turn had learned it from Egyptian priests. As it has come to us, the account occupies less than 20 printed pages; yet, to date, more than 25,000 books have been published attempting to decipher the mystery of Atlantis and identify the catastrophe that led to its disappearance (although, as mentioned, no serious interdisciplinary research or scientific expedition worthy of the name has been organized to discover the remains of the "lost continent").
One reason for academic skepticism on this topic likely lies in the popularity gained by various "Atlantis enthusiasts," who have located it in the most diverse places: in Sweden according to Olaus Rudbeck, in South Africa according to Gaspar Kirchmair, in the Arctic Ocean according to Silvain Bailly, in Armenia according to Desliles de Sale, in Ceylon according to Byron de Prorock, and, in some cases, even as a foothold of an extraterrestrial civilization. Naturally, we don’t pretend to have the final say on such a controversial issue; therefore, we will focus on presenting the two most plausible interpretations, which hold the most credibility in official scientific circles. Both attribute the disappearance of Atlantis to a volcanic eruption, an event capable of releasing immense energy. For example, consider the eruption of Mount St. Helens on May 18, 1980, which split the volcano in two in Washington State, releasing in just 9 hours an energy equivalent to 27,000 atomic bombs like those dropped on Hiroshima—almost one every second, for 9 hours straight.
However, even this pales compared to more apocalyptic eruptions, like Krakatoa in 1883 or Katmai in 1912, which buried vast territories under layers of ash and rock hundreds of meters thick. Yet, these events are still small examples of the energy Earth still holds. Prehistoric volcanism likely surpassed anything we can imagine, and, presumably, our culture is still too young to fully understand what a volcano is truly capable of.
Scientific interest in the lost continent essentially began in 1898. During the laying of the transatlantic telegraph line, one of the cables placed at a depth of 2,800 meters on the Atlantic seabed—known since then as the "Telegraph Plateau"—broke. Its ends were miraculously retrieved from the depths with special equipment that, by chance, brought a piece of rock to the surface.
A few years later, Paul Tremier, director of the French Oceanographic Institute, gave a sensational lecture in Paris. This amorphous rock, with a non-crystalline structure, was clearly volcanic in origin but had a unique characteristic: it hadn’t solidified underwater but rather in open air; it must have come from a volcano with an outlet above sea level. Furthermore, it had sharp edges, not yet smoothed by marine erosion. Analyzing its profile, Tremier estimated it to be no more than 15,000 years old. Further underwater samples confirmed that the same type of rock was found over a vast area of the Atlantic seabed.
The first hypothesis about Atlantis began to take shape: following Plato’s assertions closely, the lost continent would have been located beyond the Strait of Gibraltar, in the ocean that now bears its name. It was estimated to be 550 kilometers long, 370 kilometers wide, and topped by the Atlantean volcano, identified as today’s Pico Alto in the Azores. This hypothesis explains many coincidences that still amaze scholars today, such as the cultural, architectural, linguistic, and biological similarities of the peoples on both sides of the Atlantic.
The sudden disappearance of Atlantis, around 9000 BC according to Plato, could explain events difficult to account for otherwise. For example, the end of the Ice Age in Europe could be attributed to this, as the lost continent no longer obstructed the warm Gulf Stream, allowing it to reach Europe’s Atlantic coasts and gradually melt the ice. Another example is the periodic migration of eels to the Sargasso Sea, where there might have once been the estuary of a great river.
Soon, the academic world became divided between those who claimed that scientific proof of Atlantis's submersion had finally been found and those who argued that the volcanic rocks on the Atlantic seabed originated from the Icelandic coast, carried by icebergs that later melted. The debate was calming when drilling by the oceanographic vessel Gauss in the so-called "Romanche Trench" south of the Azores, at a depth of 7,300 meters, revealed layers of red clay containing numerous fossils of globigerina, microscopic protozoa that typically live at depths between 2,000 and 4,500 meters.
Logically, then, that layer of clay sediments must have sunk, in relatively recent times, by at least 2,800 meters—the same depth noted by Paul Tremier for the Telegraph Plateau. Since then, numerous researchers, analyzing other characteristics of the Atlantic seabed, have hypothesized the recent submersion of a continent. Others, however, have strongly refuted these claims, reaffirming the validity of plate tectonics, derived from Alfred Wegener's 1915 theory of continental drift, and categorically rejecting the possibility that a landmass as vast as Plato described could ever have existed in that ocean.
In fact, the sudden submergence of a medium-sized volcanic island in recent history is not impossible; in fact, it is considered likely. This was demonstrated by the rapid appearance, in 1931, of two volcanic islets off the coast of Brazil, which sank the following year while international diplomats were negotiating territorial rights.
The disappearance of a continental mass like the one Plato described, however, is an entirely different matter. In this case, a volcanic eruption—as we understand them today—cannot be considered the sole cause of such a massive event. We must imagine something even more catastrophic: perhaps the impact of an asteroid, which, ripping through the Atlantic ridge, could have plunged Atlantis into the fiery depths below.
