The Greek Island That Is Closing Its Beaches to Tourists Because Overtourism Has Become a Financial and Environmental Crisis

On Chrissi, a small, deserted island fifteen kilometers off the southern coast of Crete, where the cedars are old enough to recall a Greece without ferries full of day-trippers, there is a certain kind of silence these days. For years, the arrival of about 200,000 tourists each summer broke the quiet.

While some set up tents and others constructed small wooden shacks, the majority simply left behind plastic bottles, footprints, and a gradual erosion that was difficult to quantify until it was nearly too late. The island, which is loosely translated as “the Golden one,” is now off-limits to humans from sunrise to sunset from May to October. As you pass the harbor in Ierapetra, you can feel the unease of the boat operators who depend on the daily run for their livelihood.

Chrissi might end up being the symbol that Greece has been silently anticipating. The country is aiming for nearly 40 million visitors by 2028—nearly four times its own population—and the numbers are beginning to feel more like overload than opportunity. Conservation organizations have been alerting, at times yelling, that squatters’ thirsty goats and trampling feet were uprooting the cedar trees, some of which were over a century old. Younger plants hardly had a chance. People who came for a single day and didn’t think twice about what they took were depleting groundwater, which was already in short supply.

Speaking with people who are familiar with these islands gives me the impression that Chrissi’s closure is not really about Chrissi alone. It is about the entire archipelago of names that became hashtags, including Santorini, Mykonos, Paros, and Rhodes. Santorini’s mayor, Nikos Zorzos, a former Greek teacher who is now defending soil and stone rather than grammar, has stated unequivocally that his island cannot survive if construction keeps going at its current rate. Authorities authorized permits for nearly 450,000 additional square meters of construction between 2018 and 2022, and about a fifth of Santorini has already been paved or built upon. The promise of affluent tourists from China and India has enticed foreign hotel chains to demand more.

It is difficult to ignore the contradiction as you watch this play out. Depending on how you measure it, tourism may account for as much as 25% of Greece’s GDP. However, the very industry that generates this revenue is destroying the environment that generates it. Up to 17,000 people, sometimes from five cruise ships arriving at once, were crammed into Fira’s narrow lanes in a single day last summer. According to Zorzos, those guests were rushing, anxious, and lacked time for enjoyment. That is not tourism at all. It’s a conveyor belt.

Closures are not the only new measures. More than 250 beaches have been ordered to remove sunbeds, parasols, speakers, and shacks. Workers are demolishing these structures, which had silently proliferated throughout protected areas. This time of year, travelers might have to settle for a towel and the sand. It will be resented by some. Maybe others will recall why they came in the first place.

On these shores, civilizations have come and gone throughout Greece. No ancient civilization that valued beauty ever declined, according to Zorzos. It’s the kind of line that seems romantic until you realize he might be saying something more pragmatic than poetic while standing shoulder to shoulder with a thousand strangers on a cliff in Oia at sunset. There will now be a few peaceful summers for the cedars on Chrissi. It’s still unclear if the other islands will have the same opportunity.