Going underground in Turkey

I’m in Central Turkey filming a documentary series and despite the covid-19 pandemic we have managed to mitigate the risks enough to have completed three feature-length programs in the space of two months. 

Filming abroad during the Covid-19 pandemic has been no small achievement and no-one in my team underestimates the threat to health or the vulnerability this virus places on business continuity. The mitigation measures we employ are effective but they have been impactful on the team, both mentally and physically; the film crew have stoically endured weeks of continuous mask-wearing, abided by strict hygiene protocols, and have had to self isolate for extended periods of time.  

We also spend rather a lot of time underground. 

The region of Turkey we are in is hollow beneath our feet. Tunnels, hewn from soft volcanic ‘tuff’ rock reach deep into the earth, twisting and turning like some primaeval rollercoaster. It’s a labyrinth down there, and we have been tasked to film in it. 

It’s impossible to know who started tunnelling in this region, but it’s likely to have begun long before written records or even language existed.

We do know that they have provided sanctuary to humanity since their construction. In recorded ancient history Christians sheltered in these cool, dark tunnels. They fled underground to seek shelter from a persecuting Roman Empire, the many subterranean churches in the region lay testament to this religion having to go underground to survive.

Underground logistics are a complex affair for any film crew. Taking our gear through tight passages was no mean feat, yet I am in awe of those creative geniuses who constructed these tunnels. Wells and airshafts alone (some descending to 80 meters) must have taken years to cut out.

The efforts expended here must surely reflect the severity of the threats local people faced. It is only in very recent times that people began to expend energy for fun. Back when these subterranean passages were cut, energy expenditure was a costly business. These tunnels were no folly. 

What conditions must have been like for anyone spending time underground during such an emergency is hard to imagine. The tunnels we visited were relatively clean and well lit, yet we couldn't wait to see the sun again. Back then, the smell of cattle and human filth must have weighed heavily in the stagnant air.

It wasn’t all bad; they were able to make wine down there, and the livestock may have facilitated the making of cheese!

Despite the deprivations and difficulties of subterranean living, going underground has long protected humans from existential threats and will continue to do so. Visit any war zone today and there will be people taking shelter underground. 

Take a trip to the arctic regions and people are living and working underground to protect themselves from the extremely cold temperatures above. The same applies to hot arid regions, where temperatures tend to be much cooler underground than on the surface. 

Looking ahead, biological hazards should also be considered. Viruses are often manufactured in underground facilities; should a virus container accidentally spring a leak, containment measures are more effective sub-surface. We could inverse this engineering to facilitate defence against future biological threats. The next virus outbreak, natural or engineered, may pose an existential threat to society. Retreating to sealed underground chambers could extend our survival time until a vaccine is found.

Moving swiftly on from the dystopian to the utopian; we are going to be colonising our nearest planets at some point, take a guess at where those first habitats are going to be located.