This is a case for the business books. Probably the most famous island in Greece and possibly the world, Santorini, accounts for most of the incoming tourism. So how easily can you screw it up?
If you’ve ever dreamed of sipping wine on a Santorini cliffside, watching the sun dip into the Aegean Sea, 2025 might not be your year. The island, one of Greece’s crown jewels, has been rattled by tremors since early February, and while the earth’s grumbling is nobody’s fault, the Greek government’s response? That’s a different story. What could’ve been a manageable situation has spiraled into a full-blown disaster for the island’s tourism industry—and it’s hard not to point fingers at the folks in charge.
Let’s set the scene: Santorini, with its postcard-perfect whitewashed villages and volcanic charm, pulls in millions of visitors every year. In 2023 alone, it welcomed 3.4 million tourists, dwarfing its tiny permanent population of about 15,000. It’s a cash cow for Greece, especially during the summer peak. But when the ground started shaking in late January 2025, the government’s handling of the crisis turned a natural hiccup into a tourism nightmare for their No1 tourism attraction.
First off, the response was a chaotic mess. When the tremors hit—hundreds of them, some topping magnitude 5—the government declared a state of emergency by early February. Fair enough, right? Safety first. Schools shut down, construction halted, and people were told to drain their pools to lighten the load on the shaky ground. (All this time later it is still unclear when and if they will be able to refill the pools.) But then came the mixed messages. Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis urged everyone to “stay calm” while emergency crews flooded the island and thousands evacuated on ferries and planes. Over 11,000 people bailed in a matter of days, and the vibe went from “minor inconvenience” to “apocalypse now” faster than you can say “caldera.”
Here’s where it gets worse: the optics. Santorini’s streets emptied out, shops shuttered, and social media lit up with images of a ghost town. The government didn’t just let people leave—they practically encouraged the exodus by arranging extra flights and ferries. Sure, some of that was necessary, but did they have to make it look like the island was about to sink into the sea? A little reassurance, a little finesse, could’ve kept the panic in check. Instead, they let the narrative spin out of control, and now “Santorini 2025” is synonymous with “earthquake evacuation” instead of “dream vacation.”
And let’s talk about timing. This all kicked off in the off-season, which gave the government a golden window to get ahead of the problem before summer bookings ramped up. They could’ve rolled out a clear plan: monitor the tremors, reinforce shaky infrastructure, and—most importantly—communicate to the world that Santorini was still open for business. Instead, they dithered. Pointless panic meaningless actions. A state of emergency dragged on until March 3, and even as the seismic activity tapered off, the damage was done. Hoteliers are now sweating bullets, worried they won’t have enough staff to open for the season. Seasonal workers, spooked by the chaos or lured to steadier gigs elsewhere like Corfu, are bailing on Santorini.
The tourism industry is screaming for help, and the government’s response has been lukewarm at best. Hotel owners begged for subsidies to keep their workers paid while construction was stalled—reasonable, given the circumstances—but it’s unclear if those measures will actually happen. Mitsotakis popped by the island in February, calling it “an iconic tourist destination” and promising to protect its reputation. Nice words, but where’s the action? Where’s the bold campaign to reassure travelers that Santorini’s cliffs aren’t crumbling into the sea? Instead, we’ve got a tourism minister at a Berlin expo last week saying, “Safety matters more than anything else,” which is true but doesn’t exactly scream “book your trip now!” And how is anything the Greek government promoting safety? After all if a big earthquake was to happen nobody can predict when it will strike. So should nobody ever return to Santorini?
Look, earthquakes happen. Santorini’s been shaking for centuries—it’s part of its volcanic DNA. The last big one was in 1956, and it bounced back. This time, though, the government’s heavy-handed panic mode and lack of follow-through have kneecapped the island’s recovery. Experts say the tremors weren’t even volcanic, just tectonic grumbles, but you wouldn’t know that from the way officials acted like the island was one quake away from disappearing. Compare this to how other countries handle natural disruptions—think Japan’s calm efficiency with its constant quakes—and Greece looks like it’s stumbling through a crisis playbook it never bothered to write.
The fallout? The 2025 tourist season is on life support. Bookings are reportedly down, though exact numbers are hard to pin down this early. Hoteliers are bracing for delays in opening—if they open at all. The ripple effect hits everyone: bartenders, ferry operators, souvenir vendors. Santorini’s economy thrives on those summer crowds, and without them, it’s going to hurt. Badly.
Could it have been different? Absolutely. A smarter government would’ve leaned on science—experts said the risk of a major quake was low—and projected confidence instead of chaos. They could’ve fast-tracked safety upgrades, launched a “Santorini Strong” campaign, and kept the world’s eyes on those stunning sunsets instead of evacuation headlines. Instead, they let fear win, and now the island’s paying the price. They didn’t think of how to handle the media after a while. Infantile mistake. How did they think it would go? When would it be OK to return to the island and how would they justify it? After all, we all know that Greek tourism is completely unsustainable in every respect. Santorini has neither the water, electricity or waste management infrastructure to support the tourism. Even without a major earthquake those quaint little houses on Instagram are death traps in terms of safety. No two ways about it.
So, if you’re eyeing a Greek getaway this year, you have to wait and see. The island’s still gorgeous, still standing, but the government’s fumble has left it reeling. Even if you would like to take advantage of potentially less crazy crowds or better prices, it is unclear how and when you could book it. Will the pool have water? Cruises have diverted, tourist operators have made alternative plans and it’s too late for this season to recover. Here’s hoping they figure it out before 2026, because without Santorini Greece will miss out on a whole lot of foreign tourism at a time the economy needs them more than ever.
(All photos from the last time I was at Santorini a couple of years ago. I wrote then how terrible I found the entire handling of over tourism – link is here.)
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