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How Algae Became Historians of Ancient Earthquakes in Dubrovnik


Dubrovnik, Croatia, was devastated by an earthquake in 1667, as captured in this illustration by Dutch artist Jan Luyken. New research shows that seismic activity is slightly more common in the region than previously thought.
Dubrovnik, Croatia, was devastated by an earthquake in 1667, as captured in this illustration by Dutch artist Jan Luyken. New research shows that seismic activity is slightly more common in the region than previously thought.

When Algae Speak: Dubrovnik’s Earthquake Secrets Revealed

Ever thought algae could spill secrets about ancient Earth-shaking events? Nope, not just the slimy green stuff in ponds—they’re the unsung detectives of Croatia’s seismic past. Let’s dive into how Dubrovnik’s haunting history and some hardworking Mediterranean algae revealed more about Croatia’s restless tectonic history.

Dubrovnik’s Devastating Earthquake of 1667

In 1667, Dubrovnik wasn’t the bustling tourist hotspot it is today but the proud center of the Republic of Ragusa, a thriving maritime republic with over 30,000 residents.

But beneath its timeless charm lies a seismic secret: Dubrovnik is Croatia’s earthquake capital. Literally. It’s the only city in the country painted red on the seismic map—a bright, ominous warning of its vulnerability to the strongest quakes, ranking a spine-chilling 10 on the Mercalli scale.

Since ancient times, Dubrovnik has endured countless tremors, but the earth seemed particularly unforgiving from the 15th century onwards. In 1520, an earthquake caused chaos, destroying homes and claiming dozens of lives. Shaken and seeking divine protection, the people built the votive Church of St. Savior. It was meant to guard against future quakes—a celestial insurance policy, if you will.

But the insurance expired spectacularly on April 6, 1667.



That morning, a catastrophic earthquake hit just before Easter. In seconds, Dubrovnik’s Gothic and Renaissance splendor was reduced to dust. Witnesses reported massive rocks tumbling down from Mount Srđ, swallowing homes and roads alike. Entire streets cracked open, and even the Adriatic turned chaotic, with waves battering the city and ships splintering against rocks. Firestorms raged for 20 days, fueled by the destruction and fierce winds.

The death toll was devastating—over 3,000 in Dubrovnik alone, including half the nobility and the Rector. The surrounding towns of Ston, Kotor, and Herceg Novi also suffered heavily. Those who survived faced lawlessness; looters descended upon the city, taking advantage of the chaos. Desperate people scavenged ruins, drinking their own urine to stay alive. Some even looted corpses, cutting off ears to steal gold earrings. Yes, it was that grim.

Yet, even amid the despair, Dubrovnik’s legendary resilience shone. A hastily formed Council of the Twelve maintained order, punishing deserters and organizing defenses against potential attacks. And then there was Stjepan Gradić, a Dubrovnik diplomat stationed in the Vatican. Rallying support and resources, he insisted the city rely on its own strength to rebuild. His efforts were immortalized on a plaque in the newly built Baroque cathedral, which replaced the one lost to the quake.

Here’s the kicker: despite being constructed as an anti-earthquake talisman, the Church of St. Savior stood tall and undamaged during the disaster, proving it could save itself, at least. Alongside it, the Lazaretto, Sponza Palace, and Revelin Fortress also survived, stoically defying nature's wrath.

Regardless of the terrible earthquake, Dubrovnik managed to hold on and began a new phase of its history. It had been one of Europe's biggest earthquakes of all time. The ultimate microseizmic waves were felt as far as Venice, Naples, Constantinople, and even in Egypt - to a distance of a thousand miles on an area of more than 12 million square kilometers.

How Algae Became the Key to Croatia’s Seismic History

These algae form rocky structures called algal rims, building layer by layer when sea levels are stable or rise slowly over centuries
Lithophyllum byssoides, a red Mediterranean algae

Fast forward to modern times, when scientists are piecing together the history of Dubrovnik’s earthquakes to better understand the region’s seismic risks. This is where Lithophyllum byssoides, a red Mediterranean algae, comes into play.

These algae form rocky structures called algal rims, building layer by layer when sea levels are stable or rise slowly over centuries. But when an earthquake strikes near the coast, the sudden land uplift pushes these rims above sea level. This natural phenomenon provides a timestamp for ancient quakes.



These algae form rocky structures called algal rims, building layer by layer when sea levels are stable or rise slowly over centuries.
A purple-hued algal rim made by the coralline algae Lithophyllum byssoides grows along the Adriatic coast

Unlocking the Past with Algal Rims

Sanja Faivre, a geomorphologist at the University of Zagreb, and her team discovered this almost by accident. After years of studying sea level changes along the Croatian coastline, they noticed something peculiar: algal rims perched high above the waterline.

Radiocarbon dating confirmed that these rims aligned with known historical quakes, like Dubrovnik’s catastrophic

1667 event. But they also revealed hidden disasters: lesser-documented earthquakes from 1395, 1520, and even as far back as the 4th to 6th centuries CE.

Deciphering these secrets wasn’t easy. Marine samples like algae often produce distorted radiocarbon results due to the “marine reservoir effect.” Faivre and her team had to source pre-nuclear-age samples of algae from European museums to fine-tune their dating method. Their breakthrough not only validated centuries-old records but also highlighted previously unrecorded seismic events.

Why Dubrovnik’s Earthquake History Matters

Understanding Dubrovnik’s seismic past is more than a historical exercise—it’s critical for safeguarding its future. With its precarious location along the Adriatic’s tectonic fault lines, the city faces continued seismic risk.

The algal rim method provides invaluable insights into how often earthquakes have struck the region and their potential magnitude. This data allows seismologists and urban planners to better predict and prepare for future disasters.

The 1667 earthquake serves as a stark reminder of nature’s unpredictability. It reshaped Dubrovnik’s skyline and left an indelible mark on its culture and identity. Yet, out of the ruins, Dubrovnik rose again—a testament to resilience and determination.

Through the silent testimony of algal rims and Dubrovnik’s enduring walls, the story of Croatia’s seismic history continues to unfold. As scientists dig deeper into the region’s geological archives, they bring to light new chapters in a story that’s far from over—a story written in the stones and echoed by the sea.

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