Scuba Diving Practices in Greece: A Historical Ethnography of Technology, Self, Body, and Nature (Leisure Studies in a Global Era) 3031488393, 9783031488399

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LEISURE STUDIES IN A GLOBAL ERA

Scuba Diving Practices in Greece A Historical Ethnography of Technology, Self, Body, and Nature Manolis Tzanakis

Leisure Studies in a Global Era Series Editors

Karl Spracklen Leeds Beckett University Leeds, UK Karen Fox University of Alberta Edmonton, AB, Canada

In this book series, we defend leisure as a meaningful, theoretical, framing concept; and critical studies of leisure as a worthwhile intellectual and pedagogical activity. This is what makes this book series distinctive: we want to enhance the discipline of leisure studies and open it up to a richer range of ideas; and, conversely, we want sociology, cultural geographies and other social sciences and humanities to open up to engaging with critical and rigorous arguments from leisure studies. Getting beyond concerns about the grand project of leisure, we will use the series to demonstrate that leisure theory is central to understanding wider debates about identity, postmodernity and globalisation in contemporary societies across the world. The series combines the search for local, qualitatively rich accounts of everyday leisure with the international reach of debates in politics, leisure and social and cultural theory. In doing this, we will show that critical studies of leisure can and should continue to play a central role in understanding society. The scope will be global, striving to be truly international and truly diverse in the range of authors and topics. Editorial Board: John Connell, Professor of Geography, University of Sydney, USA; Yoshitaka Mori, Associate Professor, Tokyo University of the Arts, Japan; Smitha Radhakrishnan, Assistant Professor, Wellesley College, USA; Diane M.  Samdahl, Professor of Recreation and Leisure Studies, University of Georgia, USA; Chiung-Tzu Lucetta Tsai, Associate Professor, National Taipei University, Taiwan; Walter van Beek, Professor of Anthropology and Religion, Tilburg University, The Netherlands; Sharon D.  Welch, Professor of Religion and Society, Meadville Theological School, Chicago, USA; Leslie Witz, Professor of History, University of the Western Cape, South Africa.

Manolis Tzanakis

Scuba Diving Practices in Greece A Historical Ethnography of Technology, Self, Body, and Nature

Manolis Tzanakis Department of Psychology University of Crete Rethymno, Greece

ISSN 2946-3173     ISSN 2946-3181 (electronic) Leisure Studies in a Global Era ISBN 978-3-031-48838-2    ISBN 978-3-031-48839-9 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-48839-9 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Cover illustration: © theendup / Alamy Stock Photo This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG. The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland Paper in this product is recyclable.

To Ali Pourakbar, my mentor in scuba diving

Preface

The sea has always evoked strong emotions in those who confront it: from the men and women who attempt to cross its vast expanse, to those who explore its profound depths. Even coastal fishing communities, whose livelihoods depend on the sea, regard it almost as an intelligent entity, deserving of respect and, at times, fear. Frequently, the emotions of individuals interacting with the sea derive not from personal experience, but from myths and preconceived notions about the monstrous and capricious deities believed to inhabit its depths. For many, underwater realms remain enigmatic and unwelcoming. Water has never been met with indifference by humanity. It is steeped in powerful symbolism. Today, we understand water as the foundation of life and a significant component of the human body. Historic medical practices, grounded in the teachings of Hippocrates and Galen that persisted for over 2000 years in Western Europe, believed water played a role in the balance of body fluids. Modern medical theories, on the other hand, view water as essential for hygiene and controlling pathogenic microorganisms. In contemporary times, beyond hygiene, water is seen as a means of regenerating the body. Over time, the sea transitioned into a leisure landscape, associated with holidays and leisure activities. This book delves into a popular form of exploration of the underwater world, recreational scuba diving. Recreational scuba diving, as a leisurely pursuit, has a traceable genesis. It’s not merely because in 1943 Jacques-Yves Cousteau and Émile Gagnan improved the regulator, bringing to life the underwater breathing apparatus that Jules Verne once described. It's primarily because scuba diving vii

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blossomed post-World War II, paralleling economic growth, labor reforms, increased leisure time, and a culture valuing individual experiences—often framed as reconnecting with nature. The popularity of scuba diving stems from technological advances and social processes that intertwine tech applications with recreation experiences and commercialization of the senses. Today, scuba diving is an integral part of the global tourism sector, with enthusiasts traveling to dive in unique underwater places. As a seasoned scuba diver, a former instructor, and a current academic sociologist specializing in mental health, I felt compelled to examine my diving history through a sociological lens. This change in perspective transformed the ocean and its floor from sources of pleasure to objects of inquiry. Merging my identities as a sociologist and a diver opened up a plethora of new angles and pressing questions. Why do divers invest so much for brief underwater experiences, often less than an hour? How are dive sites, often remote, chosen? How do divers perceive the sea: a mere attraction, a source of joy, or an ecosystem warranting grave concern? Divers form a global community, spanning friendship circles, clubs, professional groups, and online forums. What defines this community? How did its globally recognized training system come to be? As I tried to turn my hobby into a research subject, bringing together my two selves, that of the sociologist and that of the diver, a multitude of new perspectives appeared before me, an endless series of anxious questions which aroused confused feelings about the book that I would write. I aim to address these questions by undertaking a historical ethnography of scuba diving in Greece—a nation with a robust tourist industry, rich maritime traditions, and an emerging reputation as a diving hotspot. Our exploration will spotlight Greece's unique scuba diving trajectory, emphasizing how local trends often mirror broader, global dynamics. Certified training, now considered a prerequisite for the practice of scuba diving, is relatively easy to access, as approved diving schools are situated in most coastal settlements and nearly every maritime tourist destination. Thus, access to the underwater experience through scuba diving is available to everyone, as a network of diving services has been developed around the world. But what kind of experience emerges underwater, for the brief time that divers remain at the sea's bottom with the use of advanced technological equipment, in handling which they must be trained and become familiar? How do these short tours, escapes into the underwater nature in various parts of the planet, reflect the metropolitan ethos of leisure? How has recreational scuba diving evolved during its

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relatively short history of approximately seventy years? What has changed during that time, and in which direction has it evolved? What are the prospects for recreational diving, and how might they be linked to the major challenges of our time, such as the ongoing ecological crisis, the consequences of globalized capitalism, and the commercialization of leisure? Rethymno, Greece

Manolis Tzanakis

Acknowledgments

I extend my gratitude to the editorial team at the publisher Palgrave Macmillan, particularly to Sharla Plant, Elizabeth Graber, Mohan Pushpalatha, and Vinoth Kuppan, as well as to Karl Spracklen, an editor of the Leisure Studies in a Global Era series, for their unwavering support. I would also like to express my appreciation to the scuba divers in Greece who were willing to share their insights into their diving experiences. Their contributions have been invaluable in enriching the narrative of this book. I would like to acknowledge those who have contributed, in one way or another, to the completion of this book. My appreciation goes to Maria Valasaki for her assistance in documenting the archives of the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities. I extend my gratitude to its former and current presidents, Evangelos Rakantas and Dimitris Galinas, as well as the secretarial staff for their assistance in accessing this valuable resource. I acknowledge the contributions of Elisavet Pesexidou, Giorgos Papazoglou, Giannis Cheilas, Nikol Tsigra, and Christos Efthimiou, and especially Kostas Ladas, who supplied rich photographic material and permitted its publication. The staff at the Periodicals Department of the National Library of Greece was always supportive and helpful in my research. Michalis Nikolakakis and Despina Nazou aided my understanding of how scuba diving is integrated into contemporary tourism. Maria Kasfiki and Eleftheria Zervou conducted a portion of the interviews with divers that were utilized in the final chapters. Numerous students

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collaborated with me in an in-depth study of documents related to diving, offering valuable feedback. Komninos Mirmingos assisted with the processing of visual material. Frances Wildey exhibited tremendous patience in correcting my first manuscript. Last but not least, I owe a special debt of gratitude to my family—my wife, Eirini; and my son, Marios—from whom I appropriated the time to write this book.

Contents

1 Introduction:  Scuba Diving as a Global Leisure Activity  1 Diving in Greece   2 Diving Everywhere: A Globalized Leisure Community   5 Underwater Entangleds  10 Pleasure and the Moral Gaze  15 Exploring the Underwater Self and Nature  18 Book Outline  22 2 The  Global in the Local: Scuba Diving in ­Greece 27 Researching the Local, Understanding the Global  28 Research Methods  30 Autoethnography  31 Amphibious Ethnography and Interviews  38 Digital Ethnography  42 The Magazines  47 The Archives  50 The Historical Ethnographic Perspective  52 3 Technology  and Underwater Worlds 55 Imaginary Diving Technologies  56 Realizing Utopias and Rising Dystopias  57

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Applied Technoscience: Helmets, Sponge Fishing and Diving Accidents in the Dodecanese  61 Traditional Diving Communities  70 Parallel Submarine Worlds  73 4 Diving  Technology at the Recreational World 79 Diving Equipment and Recreation Diving  80 Achieving Autonomy Underwater: The Regulator  83 Safety and Comfort  84 Technology as a Pole of Diving Clusters  85 Things and Humans Under the Surface of the Sea  90 The Technology Sensory  92 A Magic World  93 Beyond the Underwater World  95 The Era of Diving Heritization  96 Diving Past as Cultural Heritage  98 Metamorphoses: Bellstone Diving as a Sport  99 Women in New Underwater Worlds 102 5 From  the Navy to the Sport’s World107 Brawny Dives 108 The “Underwater Men,” the Bible of Scuba Diving in Greece 109 Significant Biographies 112 A New Ethos 116 The Sportization of Scuba Diving 118 The Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities (EOUDA) 120 The Navy and the Federation 126 Hyperbaric and Diving Medicine 128 Standardization and Professionalization of Scuba Diving Education 130 Standardization 131 Professionalization 133 The Ideology of Safe Diving 135 6 Underwater  Phantasmagoria: The Touristization of Scuba Diving139 Phantasmagoria of the Depths 140 Phantasmagoric Perception of the Depths 142

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Maritime Antiquities in Greece: A Journey From Research Celebration to Diving Prohibition 146 Maritime Antiquities and Scuba Diving: The Prehistory 149 The Desire to Explore the Depths 151 The Institutionalization of Underwater Archaeology 158 The Diving Prohibition 159 A Short Story 161 The Production of the Underwater Recreational Space 164 The Seabed as a Contested Field 167 Underwater Spatial Arrangements 168 The New Professional View 170 The Comparative Advantages in a World Market 173 Recreational Underwater Spectacle for All 175 7 Breathing  Under Water: Scuba Diving as Multisensory Experience177 Blue Phantasmagoria: Allure, Senses, and Emotions 178 Blue Water, Black Water 180 The Color of the Equipment 184 Underwater Embodied Self 185 A Globalized Discourse of Adventure Risk Management 186 The Care of the Underwater Embodied Self 190 Diving as a Captivating Multisensory Adventure 191 Communities 195 Underwater Sensorium, Body, and Diving Equipment 196 Underwater Hyperreality? 197 The Feeling of Flying 200 Aquaticity: Tradition, Senses, and Emotions 202 The Soundscape of Scuba Diving 205 Beyond the Silence 206 Underwater Breathing as Metaphor 209 Sensorial Flows and the Desire to Be Elsewhere 210 8 Pleasure and Aquastalgia215 Beyond the Sea Blue Water 216 The Ecological Problematization of the Greek Depths 217 A Sensitive Taskscape 220

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Underwater Aesthetics 223 Underwater Ethics and Moralities 226 “Fishing With Scuba Gear Is Unethical” 228 “We Leave Only Bubbles” 230 Technology and Sensitivity 231 Underwater Ecological Perspectives 232 Eco-Dive Ethics 233 Eco-Dive Politics 235 Aquastalgia 237 Mediterranean Aquastalgia? 241 A Globalized Indigenous Underwater Ontology? 243 Underwater Noble Savages and the Human Being 245 9 Conclusion:  Diving as Travel on the Boundaries251 Immersions 252 Surplus of Underwater Experience 256 Diving for Pleasure? 259 Bibliography263 Index295

Abbreviations

Scuba diving or SCUBA Diving using Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus. BCD Buoyancy Control Device DWP Diving with a Purpose Regulator Diving Device Controlling the Pressure of Breathing Gas PADI Professional Association of Diving Instructors NAUI National Association of Underwater Instructors CMAS World Confederation of Underwater Activities EOUDA Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities OYK Greek Underwater Demolition Team FEK Greek Official Government Gazette OFA Association of Friends of the Coast IENAE Institute of Underwater Archaeological Research

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List of Photos

Photo 1.1 Scuba divers float out of an underwater cave. Photo by Kostas Ladas11 Photo 2.1 The author (in the right) during his first training session in scuba diving in 1987, in the hotel pool in Heraklion, Crete. Source: Author’s personal archive 35 Photo 2.2 The author (in the center) during his first training session in scuba diving in 1987, in the hotel pool in Heraklion, Crete. Source: Author’s personal archive 36 Photo 2.3 Six covers of the magazine Ypovrychios Kosmos (Underwater World, issues 71/1977, 265/1993, 359/2001, 382/2003, 394/2004, 398/2004), dedicated to scuba diving 49 Photo 2.4 On the left, the EOUDA Diving Schools Register 1959–2005 and, on the right, the first book of minutes of the EOUDA general assemblies, years 1953–5. Source: EOUDA 52 Photo 3.1 Two Kalymnian Sponge fishing boats. Sources: Maritime Museum of Kalymnos 63 Photo 3.2 Painting representing sponge fishing in Kalymnos, by Ioannis Xeilas. Source: Maritime Museum of Kalymnos 64 Photo 4.1 Men with skandalopetra participating in athletic competition. Photo by Kostas Ladas 101 Photo 4.2 Woman with skandalopetra participating in athletic competition. Photo by Kostas Ladas 102 Photo 6.1 Scattered ancient ruins on a popular swimmers’ beach of a coastal city. Photo by the author 146 Photo 6.2 A child touches the remnant of an ancient column, at a depth of 5 meters and a distance of 40 meters from the main beach of a small town in Crete. Photo by the author 147 xix

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Photo 6.3 Cover page of the first issue of the magazine Orion, January 1962152 Photo 6.4 Page 7 of the first issue of the magazine Orion, 1962 154 Photo 6.5 Rejection notice from the Ephorate of Maritime Antiquities in response to a joint application by myself and a fellow diver for the establishment of a diving center in Ierapetra, Crete. Source: Author’s personal archive 163 Photo 6.6 Recreational scuba divers visit a modern shipwreck. Photo by Cristos Ladas 173 Photo 7.1 Technical scuba diver visit to the blue depths. Photo by Cristos Ladas 200 Photo 8.1 Fish and starfish on a multicolored rock, at the seabed. Photo by Cristos Ladas 224 Photo 8.2 Diver on a motorcycle that has been abandoned on some seabed in Greece. Photo by Cristos Ladas 227 Photo 8.3 A scuba diver observes a car thrown into the sea. Photo by Cristos Ladas 234 Photo 8.4 Cuttlefish swimming in a Greek seabed. Photo by Cristos Ladas 246 Photo 9.1 Diver observes floating remnant of a fishing net on a rock. Photo by Cristos Ladas 255

List of Tables

Table 1.1 Greek areas where diving was allowed and diving centers were active in 1995, ten years before the full release of scuba diving. Source: Katadisi (Dive) magazine, No. 73, July 1995, pp. 66–73 Table 2.1 Overview of global diving Meta Facebook networks as of June 2022 Table 3.1 Number of boats, divers, and crew numbers by type of operation and sources of funds, 1959–1964. Source: Russel, 1968: 56 Table 3.2 Causality Rates for Kalymnian Divers. Source: Russel, 1968: 73 Table 4.1 Places with air compressor using by scuba divers in Greece from 1950 to nowadays Table 5.1 Source: Minutes of the Administrative Council of EOUDA, March 10, 1965

4 44 74 75 90 124

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CHAPTER 1

Introduction: Scuba Diving as a Global Leisure Activity

I have recounted how the first goggles led us underwater in simple and irresistible curiosity, and how that impulse entangled us in diving physiology and engineering, which produced the compressed-air lung. Our dives are now animated by the challenge of oceanography. We have tried to find the entrance to the great hydrosphere because we feel that the sea age is soon to come. Jacques-Yves Cousteau and Frederic Dumas, The Silent World, New York, Ballantine Books, 1977 [1953], p. 241.

In recent years, oceanic depths have emerged as one of the most captivating places on Earth. The enigmatic blue of the aqueous expanse enveloping human civilization has deeply permeated collective imagination. This book aims to delineate the relatively brief trajectory through which a specific leisure activity, namely recreational scuba diving, has facilitated the emergence of novel perceptual, emotional, and ethical engagements with the mesmerizing underwater realm. In the introductory chapter, emphasis is placed on delineating the principal social characteristics of scuba diving as a leisure pursuit, both within the context of Greece and globally. A genealogical perspective is adopted to scrutinize scuba diving as a social practice, thereby underscoring salient shifts in its recent history. Accordingly, the discussion is framed through a periodization scheme, tracing the incremental transition of scuba diving from its origins in naval © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Tzanakis, Scuba Diving Practices in Greece, Leisure Studies in a Global Era, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-48839-9_1

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special forces, to its assimilation into the realm of sports and leisure, and ultimately to its significant transformation into a specialized form of tourism. Subsequent to this periodization, the foundational research questions are posed, to which ensuing chapters will provide responses. These queries concentrate on how the development of scuba diving engenders the formation of a distinct, embodied, multisensory underwater experience. This experience is facilitated by the utilization of advanced technology, enabled through the standardization and commercialization of training, and influenced by social representations concerning underwater nature and self.

Diving in Greece I wish to initiate our exploration into the history of diving with a personal anecdote. The setting was an idyllic winter Sunday in February of 1992. With scarcely any clouds in the Attic sky and no rain in the forecast, a cool northern breeze contributed to the day’s clear atmosphere—a seasonal ideal for scuba diving. My diving partner and I had commenced our preparations early, arising before the dawn. Equipment had been readied the preceding day; we loaded it into a compact truck and commenced the brief journey to our chosen dive site near Sounio. Departing from central Athens, from my residence at the foot of the Acropolis, adjacent to the “International School of Scuba Diving” where we were both serving as instructors at that time, we required approximately an hour to reach our destination. In less than two hours, we were submersed in water. The sea in this locale is amiable and replete with points of interest. On that particular day, water clarity was exceptional; underwater visibility extended up to 30 meters. Having conveyed our equipment to an opportune waterside location, we readied ourselves, donned our wetsuits, and with mutual assistance, effortlessly descended beneath the sea’s surface. At the initial plateau—characterized by numerous rocks and extending to a depth of approximately 10 meters—we encountered diverse fish species. This sunlit area also serves as a convenient decompression stop during the ascent from deeper explorations. Proceeding further into the depths, we followed a precipitous underwater incline littered with remnants of an ancient shipwreck. Fragments of amphorae have become a permanent fixture on these rocks, cementing their historical presence. This sloping floor ultimately led us to a sandy seabed abundant in shells. Here, at a depth approaching 40 meters, we spent some time observing the marine environment and savoring the

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sensation of momentary immersion in this liquid realm. Octopuses are a frequent sight at this depth, attracted by the ubiquitous shellfish which serve as their primary food source. It is not uncommon to discover their nests surrounded by empty shells—a testament to the octopus’s gastronomic preferences. Subsequently, we commenced our ascent, tracing the route indicated by our ascending bubbles. We gradually climbed the underwater slope, noting the residual fragments of the ancient shipwreck and observing the “indigenous,” the aquatic flora and fauna—some of which regarded us with curiosity, annoyance, or even trepidation. The maximum depth we reached was 44.8 meters. Despite exceeding the prescribed limits for diving “zero time” at such a depth, we paused for necessary decompression at shallow depths of 9, 6, and 3 meters. After a total dive time of 55 minutes, we resurfaced, following the ephemeral path our bubbles had etched through the water. Emerging from the sea, we commenced the disassembly of our equipment while reflecting upon our diving experiences. Our bodies, minds, and equipment were saturated with the sea’s salinity. We returned home late in the afternoon, still mentally awash with marine images and physically enveloped in a gratifying fatigue—a refreshing corporeal and mental state that would sustain us into the ensuing week. Our equipment was subsequently rinsed with fresh water, dried, and properly stored later that afternoon. The term “scuba diving” denotes the practice of underwater exploration and activity, facilitated by the utilization of a “Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus,” colloquially referred to as SCUBA. As delineated by Lippmann and Mitchell (2015), this form of diving is distinctively characterized by its provision of enhanced mobility and the freedom to investigate aquatic ecosystems. As the twenty-first century commenced, the acquisition of scuba diving training and certification in Greece was relatively straightforward. Although the number of diving schools accredited by the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities (EOUDA) was circumscribed—numbering fewer than ten, a subject further expounded in subsequent chapters—the majority were concentrated in the capital. Concurrently, certified training programs were disseminated throughout Greece via collaborative partnerships among nautical clubs, diving clubs, and diving educational institutions. In parallel, internationally recognized training through organizations such as PADI was available at various diving centers dispersed throughout

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Greece, particularly in tourist-centric locales. Numerous tourists have undergone training during their sojourns in the region since that period. Notably, it is likely that the inaugural diving center in Europe was established in Corfu (Paleokastritsa) in 1963. This center, which involved pioneering international diving instructors, boasts an impressive track record: over its sixty years of continuous operation, more than 25,000 scuba divers have received training. These diving centers frequently collaborated with expansive tourist facilities and were predominantly located in zones that had received clearance from the Ministry of Culture’s relevant archaeological service, thereby permitting underwater activities utilizing breathing apparatuses such as scuba gear. Up until 2006, a comprehensive prohibition on scuba diving existed in Greece, ostensibly to safeguard marine antiquities. Exceptions were made only for designated sea areas that had been vetted and cleared by the Ephorate of Underwater Antiquities, a specialized service under the Ministry of Culture (see Table 1.1). As a result, both diving centers and individual divers operated within a constrained environment, restricted to a few zones where recreational diving was permitted. In the present context, more than 150 diving centers are operational across Greece. Conversely, the financial barriers to entry for scuba diving were not exorbitant for those with average incomes. Numerous dive shops provided potential divers with training, equipment purchase or rental options, and Table 1.1  Greek areas where diving was allowed and diving centers were active in 1995, ten years before the full release of scuba diving. Source: Katadisi (Dive) magazine, No. 73, July 1995, pp. 66–73 Location Attica Crete Peloponnese Rhodes Mykonos Skiathos Corfu Preveza Lefkada Zakynthos Kavala Chalcidice

Number of centers offering diving services including certified training

Total

8 11 4 1 4 1 7 1 1 3 1 6

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air tank refilling services. Especially in Athens, a nascent community of divers emerged, staying informed on both national and international developments through specialized publications. The first of such was the bulletin of the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities, Orion, which began its publication in 1962. The longest-running magazine, Ypovrychios Kosmos (Underwater World), had a continuous run from 1971 to 2006. Additionally, magazines with shorter histories, such as Katadisi (Dive) and Vithos (Seabed), were also published during the same period. With the advent of the twenty-first century, these printed publications have been largely supplanted by online media platforms. The aforementioned blanket ban was rescinded at the close of 2005, thereby permitting scuba diving throughout most of the country, barring specific regions harboring sensitive marine antiquities and associated archaeological shipwrecks. Legislative Act 3409/2005 (FEK 273/A/4.11.2005) and its subsequent modifications formally designated scuba diving as an activity of significant tourist interest, allaying prior concerns regarding marine antiquities. Concomitantly, oversight responsibilities for scuba diving schools and diving centers transitioned from the Marine Antiquities service of the Ministry of Culture and the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities (which was under the aegis of the General Secretariat of Sports) to bodies overseeing commercial marine activities at large. In aligning with post-war practices prevalent in most Western nations, Greece officially sanctioned, supported, and commercialized this popular leisure pursuit, integrating it into its most robust economic sector, the tourism. As a consequence, scuba diving has evolved into an accessible and secure activity for individuals, both male and female, interested in exploring both underwater environs and their own selfhood.

Diving Everywhere: A Globalized Leisure Community In contemporary times, scuba diving has ascended to prominence as a prevalent form of marine leisure, practiced globally by an ever-expanding, mobile community (Rodineliussen, 1917). This proliferation can be attributed to multiple factors, notably the accessibility and affordability of diving equipment, as well as advancements in travel that facilitate easy access to remote diving locales. These developments have significantly catalyzed the growth of diving tourism, positioning it as one of the most rapidly expanding sectors within the tourism industry (Kieran, 2001).

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Scuba diving has witnessed a significant rise in popularity worldwide, emerging as both a recreational activity and a professional endeavor. According to the Diving Equipment and Marketing Association (DEMA), more than 3.25 million people in the United States alone were active scuba divers as of 2019 (DEMA, 2019). Globally, the Professional Association of Diving Instructors (PADI) reported issuing over 28 million certifications by the end of 2020, indicating a broad international interest (PADI, 2021; Mariethoz, 2003). The proliferation of diving tourism in areas such as the Great Barrier Reef in Australia, the Red Sea in Egypt, and the Islands of Greece has also contributed to its increasing prominence (Garrod & Gossling, 2008). The allure of underwater exploration, interconnected with cultural, social, and environmental factors, has reinforced scuba diving’s status as an expanding global practice (Ong & Musa, 2011). A defining feature of modern scuba diving is its intrinsic mobility, manifest both as a physical practice and as a conceptual framework. Specifically, this refers to the act of descending to explore intriguing underwater environments, often facilitated through international social networks, as well as the conceptual interpretation of diving as a “transition” to an alternative realm—the underwater world—as initially demonstrated by pioneering figures such as Jacques-Yves Cousteau (Cousteau & Dumas, 1953; Cousteau & Dugan, 1963, 1965; Dumas & Facey, 1976). This dual aspect of mobility distinguishes contemporary scuba diving from its historical counterparts, which were generally localized practices undertaken by communities of fishermen, sailors, and residents of coastal or lakeside regions. While scuba diving continues to intersect with local maritime, professional, and fishing traditions, it is its globalized character that principally defines it. The mobility of scuba divers, the contours of which will be elaborated upon in subsequent chapters, has emerged as a fundamental element in contemporary underwater expeditions. This demarcation is accentuated by the standardization of scuba diving as a social practice, thereby distancing it from the localized diving traditions of specific marine leisure destinations. Uniformity in diving equipment, globally standardized training and certification processes, the establishment of a safety culture informed by cutting-edge medical research, and the expansion of commercial networks that facilitate diver mobility all contribute to shaping the modern practice of recreational scuba diving. This paradigm shift is equally discernible in the context of Greece, a nation with an extensive maritime, fishing, and particularly sponge diving tradition. Subsequent chapters will delve into how the globalized

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frameworks of scuba diving have interacted with, influenced, and been influenced by local Greek maritime traditions. Our journey into the underwater world begins from the terrestrial environment, particularly that of the Western metropolis, the cultural and economic hub of late capitalist modernity (Zukin, 1995). It is within these settings that the contemporary culture of hedonistic individualism takes form (Bauman, 1997, 2004; Beck, 1992, 1099; Giddens, 1990, 1991; Lash, 1984, 1991; Turner, 1995). This culture broadly nourishes the culture of leisure (Spracklen, 2009), into which scuba diving is progressively integrated (Higham & Hinch, 2009). These cultural evolutions, predicated on the expansion of wage labor and the commodification of recreational practices (Spracklen, 2011), ultimately define the underwater emotional economy and the corresponding sensory regime in the case of scuba diving. The manner in which scuba diving is incorporated into the repertoire of recreational activities for the middle class (Musa et  al., 2010) correlates with the way in which controlled risk, especially the type associated with a “return” to perceived remaining “natural worlds,” tends to constitute a structural element of the dominant modalities through which these societies articulate and process mechanisms for the incorporation of individuals and their practices (Defrance, 2011; Jallat, 2011). In this broader social context, life acquires elements of experimentation and improvisation that extend into the realm of managing individual identity, understood as a dimension of reality subject to interventions that are believed to be implementable by the individual themselves (Ehremberg, 1991; Kaufman, 2001, 2004). Adventure sports are transformed in these societies into a medium for self-processing, as an enterprise of self-­ determination. Adventure becomes synonymous with the discovery of a presumed deeper existence (Ehremberg, 1995; Fischer-Rosenthal, 2000). In recreational bodily practices, identity is organized in relation to individual corporeality (Defrance, 1995; Travailot, 1998). However, this corporeality, which serves as an imprint of a fluid and continually contested material relationship with the world, is not confined within the individual shell but is continually connected to broader social currents. From this perspective, scuba diving is more than a leisure activity or an endeavor of self-definition. The quest for adventure, in this context, is not merely a search for thrills but an exploration of what is believed to be a deeper existential layer of human experience.

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This activity is, of course, determined by standardization processes, familiar in many forms of athletic activities. Scuba diving presupposes certified learning of practical skills, among which is the use of technological equipment, as well as the acquisition of physical and medical knowledge. It is also a process of medicalization of the body (Vigarello, 2005, 2001b). Standardized education, culminating in the certification of corresponding skills, plays a pivotal role in the practice of diving because it serves as a guide for negotiating the diver’s relationship with the seabed and marine life: it constitutes a crucial aspect of the relationship with the underwater self (Bachrach & Egstrom, 1987; Musa et al., 2010). The discourse on scuba diving also calls for a class-based analysis, an area previously examined by scholars like Pierre Bourdieu. In this regard, participation in scuba diving is not just a reflection of inequality in available resources but also a matter of the ability to appropriate symbols and meanings. According to Bourdieu (1991a), differences in participation may stem not only from material conditions but also from symbolic ones, thus enriching the sociological understanding of this activity. This analysis allows for a nuanced comprehension of scuba diving as a complex socio-­ cultural and corporeal activity, shaped by both individual and systemic factors, including standardization processes and class distinctions. Engagement in scuba diving, classified as a serious leisure activity (Kieran, 2001), necessitates a confluence of factors, notably time investment, financial resources, and conducive social and cultural conditions (Wynne, 1998). For the majority residing within the middle and upper social strata of economically developed nations, the financial burden associated with training, equipment acquisition, and the act of diving itself is generally not prohibitive. This accessibility substantially contributes to the global proliferation of the practice. However, certain socio-economic conditions operate as barriers to entry. Specifically, individuals without a stable income or the logistical capability to transport equipment—let alone the private use of a boat— face significant challenges in participating in this leisure activity. These barriers are inherently rooted in the unique characteristics of scuba diving, an activity requiring considerable commitments of time and financial resources. Factors such as the feasibility of travel, cost of training, and equipment acquisition play pivotal roles. Consequently, the majority of new entrants to the field tend to originate from middle to upper social strata, and often reside in proximity to coastal or marine leisure destinations. These socio-economic dimensions

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not only shape the demographic composition of the scuba diving community but also raise pertinent questions about its accessibility and inclusivity. Indeed, economic factors function as an essential social substrate that informs the meaning and significance of recreational scuba diving as a cultural practice. Within this context, the act of scuba diving presupposes a consensual interpretive framework among participants. This framework delineates the core essence of the practice, its objectives, and the character of the relationship between the diver and the aquatic environment. Additionally, it encompasses the sensory experience of the “wet body.” Drawing on Bourdieu’s sociological framework (Bourdieu, 1980a, 1980b), one could argue for the existence of a socially demarcated “leisure diving universe.” This realm possesses specific terms of entry, integration, and positioning within an internal hierarchy. It is evident that recreational scuba diving has evolved into a highly professionalized domain of leisure activities, characterized by the extensive commercialization of physical practices coupled with emotionally and sensorially enriching experiences deemed worthy of engagement. However, the focus of this book aims to transcend mere internal dynamics of the diving field. Through historical and phenomenological lenses, we intend to elucidate the dialectical relationship between the global differentiation and the relative internal homogenization within the social world of recreational scuba diving. An insular perspective solely concentrated on the internal structure of the diving field may inadvertently obscure these intricate interconnections. Certainly, Bourdieu’s assertion that the body serves as an active mnemonic device deeply ingrained with the characteristics of a particular culture through an extensive socialization-learning process holds significant implications for our understanding of recreational scuba diving (Bourdieu, 1980a, 1980b). Physical practices in sports and leisure, alongside other culturally embedded activities like nutrition and beauty care, are intrinsically linked to social stratification (Tomlinson, 2004). These practices connect individuals to a broader social world, placing them within complex mechanisms that harness both material and symbolic resources, as well as a dense network of more or less institutionalized relationships (Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992). The consistent engagement in recreational diving, in particular, affords divers a supplementary social identity grounded in a shared understanding of the practice. This identity is entangled with mutual obligations and

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privileges, which the divers can mobilize as symbolic capital across various domains of life. This extends from the ephemeral euphoria of exploring exotic underwater landscapes to the more profound sense of being capable of intervening in larger ecological crises, such as climate change. At the core of these meaningful outcomes generated by underwater leisure activities is the multisensory—technologically mediated—experience of immersion. Therefore, the corporeal engagement with the aquatic environment becomes more than just a physical act; it evolves into a complex interplay of sensory, social, and symbolic dimensions (Jennings, 2007).

Underwater Entangleds Scuba diving constitutes a confluence of technological, physical, and social parameters. The third chapter is specifically devoted to the issue of technology, a variable of critical importance that functions as the organizing principle underlying this activity. More broadly in the field of recreation, increasingly advanced technological applications are being implemented (Kraus, 2000: 348–356). It is simply inconceivable to contemplate scuba diving absent its technological prerequisites, which are themselves predicated on scientific advancements in the fields of physics and biology. As posited by Latour (1993), a perspective that is unequivocally applicable to recreational scuba diving, technological equipment in modern life is not situated “out there,” separate from social life on an ontological level; rather, it is an integral component of it. Conversely, technology is not an autonomous agent. The commercial availability and user-friendliness of diving equipment cannot singularly account for the global popularity of scuba diving that has emerged since the mid-twentieth century. The Cousteau-Gagnan regulator, which had already been advertised in Greece in specialized publications (see Orion, 1962–1971) as well as in various global contexts (see Skin Diver, from 1951), proliferated through intricate social, cultural, and ideological processes globally. Viewing the seabed as a venue for recreational activity is a facet of the broader expansion of outdoor leisure pursuits and the transformation of collective representations that pertain to nature and the idyllic virtues of returning to it (see photo 1.1). Leisure, like play, reveals how a society represents itself, and how it decodes its own collective experience (Geertz, 1993). It is salient to acknowledge that the “desire” for recreational underwater activities predates World War II. While the refinement of the breathing

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Photo 1.1  Scuba divers float out of an underwater cave. Photo by Kostas Ladas

apparatus by Cousteau-Gagnan in 1943 is frequently cited as the genesis of scuba diving—a characterization merited given the technological prerequisites that define the activity—it is fallacious to posit a singular “dawn of everything” in the realm of diving (Graeber & Wengrow, 2021). To conceptualize the history of diving in terms of clearly delineated stages would likely be misleading. Invoking thresholds is both useful and necessary, albeit exclusively insofar as it illuminates the convergence of disparate social processes that have contributed to the gradual evolution of contemporary perceptions of our relationship with the underwater environment. Chronological landmarks also serve to accentuate the concept of chrono-politics (Edelstein et al., 2020), through which diving traditions become shaped in ways that simultaneously obfuscate and commemorate past experiences and events. Contemporary Western diving museums may inadvertently perpetuate a Eurocentric, neo-colonial historiography of diving by foregrounding “early,” technologically rudimentary, and “exotic” forms of diving practices in various coastal or lakeside

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communities globally. The allure of scuba diving is not solely attributable to its position in a linear trajectory of technological advancements and discoveries. What is perhaps most compelling in these narratives is not the demarcation of events tied to spatially and temporally localized “starting points,” but rather an exploration into the multilayered social processes that establish regimes of perception and emotional economies. The historical narrative of scuba diving is not unequivocally initiated in 1943, notwithstanding the perfection of a device that has since become emblematic of the activity, as its nomenclature attests. In France, often considered the birthplace of the technological advancements indispensable for modern scuba diving, the first recreational underwater activity club was established in 1935, well before Cousteau and Gagnan’s innovations (Mascret, 2010). The cover of issue 17 of the French magazine Voila in August 1935 is illustrative, depicting a young man with a rudimentary self-contained underwater breathing apparatus alongside a sizable metallic box integrated with a camera. As indicated by the cover’s main caption, the nascent “Club des Sous l’Eau” aimed at facilitating excursions into underwater depths. In Greece, as early as 1929 in Athens, the Association of Friends of the Coast (OFA) was established, aimed at fostering “love for the sea and nature.” This organization, marked by both its popularity and dynamism, would later serve as a pivotal force in the formation of the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities (EOUDA), becoming a member in 1959. The club remains active, and scuba diving has been officially incorporated into its range of activities. The expansion of urban classes in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries is linked to the development of sports as a means of entertainment, connecting bodily exercise with liberal individualistic ideology. Clubs played a pivotal role in this combination in Greece (Liakos, 2019), as well as with gender identities (Koulouri, 1997: 13, 23; Fournaraki, 2010). The organization of sports and recreational activities was based on and supported the values, styles, and social networks of the urban strata, and the related ideologies that later spread in various fields of leisure time and vacations (Spracklen, 2011). Considering these mutually reinforcing components, scuba diving can only be understood to a certain extent as “symmetrical” (Latour, 1993), that is, as an amalgamation of culture-rooted symbolism, artifacts, and natural elements, including human biology and aquatic life.

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After donning my suit and adjusting the intricate diving equipment— comprising the tank connected to my regulator and a buoyancy control device (BCD) often mistaken for a life jacket by the uninitiated—I put on my mask and immerse myself, breathing pressurized air while adhering to medically prescribed protocols for bottom time and ascent, effectively calculated by the computer worn on my arm. This experience constitutes a techno-biophysical dynamic phenomenon, entailing a specific form of bodily engagement with water and its aquatic inhabitants. This form of experience adheres to a constant, which Hodder (2012) designates as “entanglement,” emphasizing the assembly of things and humans into singular clusters, varying across historical periods. Social practices either result from or refer to such clusters. Consequently, recreational diving serves as a historical amalgamation of technological applications and social configurations, yielding a hybrid techno-experience situated within the scuba diver’s underwater technobody. A “symmetrical approach” (Latour, 1993) to this experience encompasses the historical lineage of artifacts (e.g., regulator, BCD) that condition divers to consider the possibility of pleasurable interactions with the seabed, a realm previously viewed with awe or even fear by the majority of Westerners. The technological preconditions for scuba diving were, in turn, aligned with the dominant Western paradigms surrounding leisure, sport, and free time. These shifts in social milieu facilitated the utilization of Cousteau and Gagnan’s innovations beyond military and industrial applications, primarily within the realm of recreation. Such devices were straightforward enough to be swiftly commercialized, disseminating across the globe via intensifying networks of product and idea exchange. Analogous devices were promptly manufactured in economically and technologically advanced nations, predominantly in the United States (Hanauer, 1994). Subsequent to the initial commercialization of scuba diving technologies, the necessity for specialized training in both practical skills and theoretical knowledge pertinent to underwater safety emerged. Presently, the practice of scuba diving necessitates a certified, international standard apprenticeship encompassing technological acumen, rudimentary medical understanding, and physical principles. This standardization of pedagogy, initially orchestrated within the framework of national sports federations (e.g., EOUDA in Greece as a member of CMAS) and subsequently transitioning to organizations of international reach with explicit financial objectives (most notably PADI, the predominant training service provider

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globally), is predicated on the assimilation of a corpus of knowledge concerning human physics and physiology. This corpus is intrinsically connected to the acquisition of requisite technical skills and equipment utilization. Comprehending the ramifications of escalating pressure and mastering equipment manipulation to navigate the unique underwater milieu are intertwined with the assimilation of foundational knowledge in human biology, diving medicine, and physiology—fields that occupy significant portions of educational manuals. The incremental dominance of moral imperatives advocating for safe diving practices—encompassing bodily care before, during, and subsequent to dives—has effectively homogenized this activity on a global scale. Knowledge is now compartmentalized into specific levels and categories, such as open water, deep, rescue, shipwreck, and cave diving. Training manuals delineate the essential equipment, and standardized underwater sign language obviates the need for local language proficiency, perhaps even negating the requirement for English fluency, thereby facilitating global diving experiences with relative safety. Subsequently, training in the use of these technological applications and in the acquisition of the theoretical knowledge deemed necessary for safe stay in the underwater environment was very quickly commercialized. The commercialization of scuba diving training encompasses not merely skill acquisition but also an extension of scientific literacy to the scuba diving community, including rudimentary understandings of human biology and the physics of gases and fluids. The aspirant diver is thus sensitized to the fact that the underwater environment constitutes a realm fundamentally distinct from terrestrial existence. Amidst the seabed’s accelerated pressure variations, bodily functions and sensory perceptions undergo drastic alterations, which are only partially mitigated through sophisticated technological apparatuses. Standardized training, culminating in skill certification, serves as an intermediary for establishing the diver’s rapport with both the marine ecosystem and their submerged self. This pedagogy aims to metamorphose acquired abilities into tacit skills, facilitating an ostensibly “natural” immersion experience. It is predicated on the principle that safety—a central ideological tenet in recreational diving—requires an apt understanding of pertinent physics and physiology, including foundational laws governing gas and liquid behavior under variable conditions (e.g., Dalton’s, Boyle’s, and Henry’s laws, Archimedes’ principle, see Graver, 1989; Simeonidis, 2000).

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This theoretical corpus spanning physics, medicine, and physiology becomes indispensable in negotiating one’s submerged selfhood. The multifaceted sensory experiences of recreational divers are mediated through medical representations of the body, particularly activated during exigent circumstances (Bonnet et  al., 2008). Such knowledge is instrumental to the paradigm of safe recreational diving, especially within the larger scope of marine activities’ touristic commodification, where the objective is unadulterated enjoyment (Dimmock, 2009, 2010; Dimmock & Musa, 2013; Dimmock & Wilson, 2009; Mundet & Ribera, 2001; Musa & Dimmock, 2017; Tabata, 1992). Experienced divers, having undergone rigorous standardized training, relegate their acquired theoretical and practical knowledge to the periphery of their underwater expeditions, prioritizing the recreational experience. This leads to the crystallization of a diving habitus, which materializes only through the synergistic interplay of technology, training standardization, and commodification, and the activation of socially constructed representations of nature. This confluence propels the self and outdoor recreational activities into the limelight of everyday life.

Pleasure and the Moral Gaze The maritime landscapes—encompassing seas, rivers, and lakes—frequented by contemporary recreational divers are largely delineated and spatially configured through a complex mesh of international and national regulations (Gammon & Elkington, 2015). These regulations serve to construct the seabed as a socially and economically exploitable asset. The transient population of scuba divers acts as a significant economic catalyst, compelling governmental bodies to not merely stipulate access protocols but also mobilize social entities capable of re-engineering the seabed into a touristic locale. Within this framework, underwater ecologies and landscapes are increasingly viewed as malleable resources amenable to socio-­ economic transformations, consonant with broader contemporary spatial manipulations (Lefebvre, 1991). Such interventions on the seabed can at times be extensive, altering its very physiognomy to render it an enticing touristic destination. The fabrication of artificial reefs, often through the deliberate submersion of decommissioned naval vessels, serves to cultivate flourishing marine ecosystems, thereby attracting divers to partake in a spectacle of underwater biodiversity. Concurrently, the establishment of subaquatic museums,

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regulated ingress to historically significant shipwrecks, submergence of contemporary art installations, and other landscape modification strategies collectively aim to metamorphose the underwater environment into a palimpsest of recreational allure. Pronounced human interventions aimed at enhancing the underwater environment’s “appeal” have elicited substantial ecological concerns and pushback. Since 2005, Greece has instated an array of legislative mechanisms designed to transform its seabed for the advancement of diving tourism (discussed in forthcoming chapters). Though extensive modifications have yet to transpire, a blueprint for molding the substratum of the Greek seas into a modifiable canvas for recreational exploitation has been delineated. Such legislative actions—ranging from permitting visits to underwater archaeological landmarks and shipwrecks, to the inauguration of submerged art museums and artificial reefs—transmute the seabed into a phantasmagoria of consumable imagery and sensations. These actions serve primarily to stimulate international diving tourism, rather than to accommodate local diving constituencies (Yassirani, 2017). For contemporary scuba divers, influenced by global tourist trends and subscribing to the hegemonic “tourist gaze” (Urry, 1990), this sensory-­ rich seabed blue phantasmagoria serves as a pivotal allure. This experiential mode could be framed as a form of radical reflexive flânerie, resonant with Benjamin’s interpretation of Baudelaire’s flâneurs navigating early capitalist urban landscapes (Benjamin, 1968, 2002). Likewise, recreational divers derive pleasure from underwater scenery while also experiencing unique corporeal sensations engendered by the symbiosis between aquatic conditions and technological accoutrements. This multisensory experience—comprising the tactile sensations of diving gear, auditory cues of bubbles ascending to the surface, and the kinesthetic liberties of weightless movement—constitutes an unparalleled phenomenological tableau. This experience not only aligns with the nomadic subjectivities characteristic of late modernity but also serves a quest for “authenticity.” Thus, submersion in socially orchestrated seabed fosters an adventurous pursuit of discoveries and potential revelations, pertinent both to the diver’s embodied self and to the wider marine ecology. The hedonistic-exploratory gaze that frames contemporary underwater tourism is the outcome of antecedent shifts in collective conceptualizations of marine depths and oceanic expanses, of water and its interaction with the human physique. Historically, particularly in the European Middle Ages, fear and mysticism dominated representations of oceanic

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depths. The influence of Hippocratic-Galenic medicine, which prevailed until the mid-nineteenth century in Europe, regarded contact with water as precarious to bodily health due to its perceived impact on bodily fluids. The sea predominantly functioned as a space for livelihoods, as well as a facilitator or barrier to civilizational contact (Braudel, 1985). Seldom was the sea, either its surface or its depths, a destination in itself. It is only within the sphere of developed capitalist modernity that engagement with the marine environment transitioned into a quasi-­ therapeutic practice of sensory stimulation, captured eloquently by the Greek term for sunbathing—iliotherapia, or “therapy from the sun.” The sea, once an arena for mere subsistence and trade, metamorphosed into a marketable commodity. Scuba diving represents a pivotal “moment” in a broader human endeavor to pierce the water’s surface, to technologically master the challenge of underwater respiration, and to socially expropriate subaqueous resources. Thus, in the context of late modernity (Giddens, 1991), the underwater tour, mediated by complex technical, social, and economic factors, has been reconceptualized as an end unto itself, particularly for purposes of leisure and recreation. In the twenty-first century, the endeavor to conquer marine depths undergoes a transformation, adopting a post-humanistic lens that reconsiders the very notion of the “natural.” This shift engenders an acute awareness of anthropogenic impacts, including those from recreational diving, on marine ecosystems. Climate change, along with the global repercussions of localized human activities, brings a heightened ethical dimension to the practice of recreational diving, when pleasures encounter unease and turn troubled (Soper, 1990). Such ecological consciousness stimulates a quest for an “authentic” interaction between humans and aquatic realms, leading to emergent discourses within scuba diving communities that advocate for the well-being of nonhuman entities. The imperative here is to minimize human intrusion during diving expeditions. Interestingly, these ethical considerations are not inherently antagonistic to commercial interests (Shivers & de Lisle, 1997: 137–149), as they harmonize with the rise of ecotourism and are codified through political mechanisms that seek to regulate underwater activities. Consequently, the landscape of diving has seen the evolution of politically engaged collectives with ecological or other political orientations (e.g., Diving with a Purpose (DWP)). In Greece, for example, initiatives like coastal seabed cleanups by professional and amateur diving

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organizations have become increasingly prevalent. Additionally, NGOs and research institutes aim to monitor and potentially restore underwater ecosystems. The theoretical frameworks are evolving to assess the carrying diving capacity of tourist-­developed marine areas (Ditton et  al., 2002; Orams, 1999). Therefore, the seabed stands as a reflective social construct, a sensitive realm warranting preservation, and the experience of recreational diving serves as a multifaceted semantic context. Through this lens, one can explore the contours of human futures, elucidating the intersections between individual and collective identities, as well as between natural and social phenomena, in contemporary settings.

Exploring the Underwater Self and Nature Scuba diving affords individuals an exploratory realm that extends beyond mere engagement with underwater environments to also include a profound introspection of the self. The sea serves as a “floating signifier” (Lévi-Strauss, 1987; 1961; 1962), laden with myriad meanings that imbue the submarine trajectories at the intersection of societal and individual subjectivity. Echoing Jue and Ruiz’s observations about the sea as a unique locus for contemplating varying modalities of movement and proximity (2021: 3), scuba diving exemplifies the dialectic relationship between the self and nature, warranting a nuanced understanding of the interplay between human beings and the underwater ecosystem—especially in the contemporary context characterized by new forms of nomadism (Braidotti, 2006). In particular, scuba diving furnishes an unparalleled space for pondering kinesthetic experiences. Assisted by technological implements, the human body submerges into the aqueous environment, instigating a shift in perceptual frameworks. The range of bodily sensations and movements divers encounter provides a unique vantage point on the intricate nexus between human corporeality and the surrounding milieu. The fusion of the body and its sensorial extensions—such as diving masks, wetsuits, and respiratory apparatus—gives rise to a techno-organic assemblage that facilitates a peculiar corporeal experience. As Hamilakis notes, during scuba diving “the body and its material, sensorial prosthetics, such as the mask, the wet suit, or the various breathing instruments, become tightly interwoven, producing a techno-organic apparatus which in its turn develops a close, pairing relationship with the water, resulting in a distinctive sensorial assemblage.

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Divers often talk of the unique sense of their own embodied state while diving, and the peculiar sense of serenity they achieve” (2022: 199). The ensuing chapters will scrutinize the specific sensorial modality underpinning the scuba diving experience, and how this modality interfaces with the “Western sensorium” to which Hamilakis alludes. This inquiry will delve into various sensory domains implicated in scuba diving, including auditory, tactile, and visual perceptions, and their intersections with broader cultural paradigms governing sensory perception. The act of scuba diving transcends a mere sojourn in the sea, manifesting as a liminal exercise punctuated by the crossing of various boundaries. This amphibious passage creates a transitory embodied experience that implicates both egress and return. Far from being a mere backdrop for social and recreational undertakings, the liquid medium and the immersive process are determinants that inform the contemplative engagement with underwater terrains (Jue, 2020). Moreover, these elements serve to problematize the conditions of human existence. In this ephemeral traversal into the “Other,” technology emerges not merely as facilitative of underwater discovery, but as a construct that extensively mediates the diver’s engagement with the underwater realm. Diving paraphernalia— ranging from air pressed tanks and regulators to wetsuits—acts upon bodily sensations and kinesthetic movements, subsequently influencing the divers’ comprehensive sensorial engagement. Jue’s (2020) conceptualization of diving as an “interface method” proves illustrative. Herein, critical points of interface reside in the lungs, and extend to encompass the technologically augmented body, underwater respiration, and the physiological adaptation to high-pressure environments. Following this paradigm, diving assumes the status of a “practice that orients,” a conduit toward a recognition of emotionally resonant issues and a quest for understanding human interaction with the aqueous milieu. This poses a pivotal question: What does the underwater embodied experience signify in the context of late capitalistic modernity as a risk society? This contemporary milieu is typified by an intensification of reflective bodily experiences and growing ecological awareness. These factors are inextricably linked to present-day praxes of selfhood, replete with emotional valences that are at times distressing, and their subsequent neo-­ romantic narrativizations as captured by the term “solastalgia” (Albrecht, 2005). The concept of solastalgia, extensively explored in environmental psychology, sociology, and health (Albrecht, 2010), frames emotional and

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psychological ramifications of environmental transformation as a profound determinant of human well-being, mental health, and quality of life. Solastalgia manifests when an individual’s cherished environment—comprising landscapes, ecosystems, and communities—undergoes adverse alterations induced by phenomena such as deforestation, climate change, and industrial pollution. In this scholarly work, the term “aquastalgia” is introduced in this book as a subset of solastalgia specific to aquatic environments. This neologism encapsulates a complex emotional amalgam—comprising worry, concern, and a certain gratification—associated with returning to oceanic settings. This growing emotional resonance is precipitated by a heightened awareness of maritime ecological issues, including water pollution and ecological imbalances. Scuba diving, therefore, serves not just as a leisure activity but also as a palliative experience for those grappling with aquastalgia. In this multifaceted framework, the multisensory underwater experience resulting from scuba diving exists in a historically contextualized space-time. This experience contributes to what Castoriadis (1987) described as the “magma of social imaginary significations.” On one side of this dichotomy resides the fluid concern for aquatic environments in an era increasingly conscious of climate change; on the other, we observe the nomadic dispositions of radically hybrid modern subjectivities. This magma of social imaginaries serves as fertile ground for discourses around ecological risks and the imperatives of ecologically ethical behaviors, particularly in the marine milieu. From this rich conceptual substrate emerges a rhetoric that resonates within scuba diving communities worldwide, encapsulated in aphorisms such as “take only photos, leave only bubbles,” and admonishments such as “don’t touch anything.” Thus, this study aims to unpack the intricate sociological phenomena encapsulated by the term “aquastalgia,” shedding light on its implications for scuba diving as both a leisure activity and a socio-ecological practice. Recreational diving serves as a complex hermeneutic exercise, entangled in a fluid and contradictory magma of social and emotional significations, encompassing worry, concern, and pleasure. These sentiments find corporeal expression in the scuba diver’s technobody, a melding of human and machine that serves as both a portal for discovery and a gateway back to the enigmatic underwater realm. Narratives emanating from such diving experiences serve to collapse the dualism between the wet-underwater and dry-terrestrial semantic universes.

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Scuba diving does not merely offer an opportunity for immersion in water but also prompts a psychological and social introspection. As one diver belonging to a politically conscious diving community stated in an online testimonial, “the joy of moving with the current, feeling the cooling sensation of water on the body, seeing amazing animals, and enjoying the beautiful corals.” This narrative sentiment is echoed by other divers who witness firsthand the harmful consequences of human recklessness on delicate underwater ecosystems: “giving back to our oceans and preserving this magnificent ecosystem.” These observations—whether of a trapped turtle or a fish entangled in plastic—transcend mere incidents to become symbols and catalysts for reflection on environmental stewardship. However, it is essential to recognize the limitations inherent in commercialized experiences of scuba diving. In a capitalist system increasingly commodifying eco-experiences, the genuine reflective capacity of scuba diving is at risk of being diluted. As another member of the aforementioned diving community articulates, the commodification of scuba diving through the tourism industry can divert attention from the profound privilege that each underwater breath represents. Seven decades ago, Jacques-Yves Cousteau and Frederic Dumas prophesied the advent of the “sea age” in their seminal work, The Silent World (1953). While initially characterized by utopian visions of oceanic exploration and human underwater settlements, the discourse has now shifted toward an urgent concern for marine ecosystems jeopardized by human activity. Globalization, as Appadurai (1996) asserts, emanates from shifts in subjectivity, a postulate aptly exemplified by contemporary scuba diving. Increasingly influenced by a fantasy suffused with aquastalgia, diving now navigates a terrain of heightened ecological concerns, interlinking with the embodied experience of the self in a submerged environment. As the underwater world continues to lure explorers and as the hedonistic sensory palimpsest of scuba diving becomes further commodified, the relationship with the aquatic realm remains a dynamic construct. This nexus provides a mirror reflecting the continually evolving interconnections between humanity and the aquatic sphere, subject to the pressing exigencies and ethical debates precipitated by anthropogenic ecological impact. If recreational scuba diving is conceptualized as a form of exploration, it becomes intrinsically tied to a complex, fluid, and contradictory assemblage of meanings encompassing worry, concern, and pleasure. This amalgam of emotional and cognitive states is manifest in the diver’s technobody,

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which simultaneously functions as a vessel for discovery and a gateway to the awe-inspiring biotic realms of the ocean. Narratives that arise from the act of scuba diving—stories that infiltrate enthusiast collectives, specialized digital media platforms, and an inexhaustible corpus of travel accounts related to diving—serve to bridge the aquatic-submerged and terrestrial-­ arid spheres of symbolic interpretation.

Book Outline The introductory segment, which furnishes an extensive delineation of the thematic scope within which the book’s content will unfurl, is followed by a chapter meticulously dedicated to the domain of methodology. The said chapter’s overarching objective is to embark upon an exploration of the trajectory of recreational diving’s evolution within the confines of Greece. A country marked by its distinctive attributes, including a pronounced maritime identity and the historical underpinning of the sponge diving tradition, Greece is also profoundly shaped by global trends. The scope is to fathom the course of scuba diving’s evolution within Greece, thereby necessitating the exposition of the research methodologies espoused in this study. Within the compass of this interdisciplinary work, the concept of recreational diving is construed as a praxis inherently interwoven with intricate socio-cultural processes, eventually finding its place within the expansive realm of recreation and tourism. The methodological framework embraced herein is one of amalgamation, entwining a mixed methodology with an ethnographic approach. The latter focuses on the corporeal encounter with underwater realms while concurrently providing a historical panorama of the institutional regulations that increasingly enshroud this undertaking on a global scale. Subsequently, the third chapter casts its analytical gaze upon the intricate nexus binding technology, society, and the practice of diving. In pursuance of a historical ethnographic lens, the focal point of analysis resides in distinct technological advancements that have indelibly shaped the annals of diving within the geographical confines of Greece. The exploratory journey’s commencement can be traced back to the nineteenth century, marked by the confluence of Western technological imaginaries with the pragmatic application of technoscientific principles. This transformative confluence found palpable expression in the realm of traditional diving practices prevalent within Greece, particularly within the distinguished backdrop of sponge diving tradition in Kalymnos and the broader

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Dodecanese region. The overarching aim of this analytical endeavor is to elucidate the historical scaffolding within which technology and the submerged experience have harmonized and evolved, culminating in the formation of intricate diving assemblages. These assemblages, in turn, have engendered differentiated underwater worlds, occasionally coexisting in mutual proximity. A tangible exemplar of this coexistence manifested in Greece over a temporal span of approximately two decades, wherein the realms of sponge diving and recreational diving coalesced as distinct yet interconnected modes of underwater praxis. In the fourth chapter, a comprehensive analysis is undertaken concerning the fundamental social attributes of contemporary recreational scuba diving technology. Particular emphasis is accorded to the intricate integration of technology and diving practices within the overarching value framework of sports and recreation. This integration culminates in the formation of intricate diving assemblages. Within these dynamic and interwoven settings, distinct emotional extensions and corresponding conceptualizations of underwater experiences come to the fore. Through these multifaceted interlinkages of constituent elements, the profound depths of the oceanic expanse undergo a progressive metamorphosis, transitioning into arenas encompassing sports, leisure, tourism endeavors, and, more recently, ecological consciousness. Technology, entrenched as an integral facet of the diving encounter, assumes a dual role: not solely as the bedrock for comprehending the evolutionary arc of diving itself, but also as an indispensable component of diving’s cultural heritage. In this light, it has evolved into an element deemed imperative for preservation, akin to the achievements of pioneering figures, and thus is fittingly showcased within specialized museums. The subsequent fifth chapter casts its spotlight upon the historical trajectory of scuba diving within the geographical purview of Greece. The investigation delves into the inception of this activity, tracing its embryonic phases within the naval sector, concurrent with the establishment of institutions tightly interlinked with the global domain of sport. These institutions were established with the intent of cultivating a broader culture centered around marine recreation. Initially construed as a non-­ competitive sport, scuba diving diverged from its military and economically driven utilization of underwater resources. It subsequently evolved into a widely embraced recreational pursuit emblematic of late modern practices. Coexistent with related aquatic endeavors, scuba diving found itself under the oversight of specialized bodies dedicated to advancing marine

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activities and nurturing humanity’s connection with the aquatic realm. The delineation of this distinct culture of recreational diving was molded and steered by global entities that underscored safety standards, training protocols, and certification procedures. Simultaneously, as educational processes underwent standardization and commercialization, a substantial cohort of adept instructors emerged. This catalyzed the fostering of a culture that placed less emphasis on physical prowess and achievements, prioritizing instead the notion of secure diving to facilitate the appreciation of underwater wonders. Consequently, diving progressively metamorphosed into an undertaking guided by judicious management of subaquatic risks, adapting training in the utilization of appropriate equipment, procurable from specialized diving establishments, coupled with an understanding of diving physiology. In the sixth chapter, an exploration is undertaken into how the depths have come to be perceived in our era as a captivating realm of sensory-rich experiences, a facet of the intricate globalized tourist industry. This chapter centers on the manner in which specific institutional regulations and social processes have led to the intensification of commodifying scuba diving as a recreational pursuit and vacation activity. The focus lies in describing and analyzing the gradual transformation of perceptions and practices through institutional regulations that amplify the comprehension of the underwater world and the sea as realms of bodily rejuvenation and sources of pleasurable experiences, specifically within the context of Greece. The transition from the military and economic utilization of emerging technoscientific applications to treating scuba diving as a sport, subsequently as a recreational activity, and finally as a specialized form of tourism is mediated by new social representations of the subaquatic nature. These transformations are further influenced by shifts in practices of self and state interventions at the legislative level that define the parameters of these transformations. The regulation of space, alterations in the realm of subjectivity, and the novel gaze through which we perceive the depths of the seas are at the core of the process of diving’s tourism commodification. The seventh chapter zeroes in on the subaquatic sensory experience. The allure of the ocean’s depths is conceived as an “alternative world,” with each dive depicted as an adventure offering diverse sensations of discovery, enigma, and aesthetic allure. The exploration of liquid marine environments is intricately linked with sensory-laden underwater experiences that guide divers through their brief submerged journeys. The deployment of technology for underwater respiration and the facilitation

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of secure entry and exit into this “blue” phantasmagoria engender a series of unique encounters that are collectively experienced. This engenders a sensory regime encompassing the sensation of tridimensional movement and motion, the tactile awareness of diving equipment tailored to one’s body, the invigorating touch of water permeating the diving suit, the auditory sensations of inhalation and exhalation through the regulator, and the visual marvel of the ever-shifting chromatic spectrum based on depth. Navigating through this awe-inspiring domain fills recreational divers with profound emotions, leading them to intrinsically experience their own existence. These processes, which juxtapose distinct practices of self with emotions stemming from the state of underwater technicality experienced by recreational divers, encapsulate the allure of the ocean’s depths as a marvelous yet delicate realm. In the eighth chapter, the aim is to describe the relationship between contemporary ecological concerns and the evolution of scuba diving. In dominant contemporary representations, as depicted in specialized diving literature and on the websites of diving centers, as well as in online dialogue groups on social media, the sea’s surface is perceived as the boundary of civilization, while the ocean’s depths remain largely unknown. Additionally, the sea is also conceptualized as the source of life, the place where the first living beings, including humans, originated. Therefore, the “return” of humans utilizing advanced technology to this place of origin raises unique questions about the relationship between culture and nature. As we have observed, the development of recreational scuba diving is profoundly influenced by ecological perceptions. Simultaneously, the utilization of scuba diving within the tourism industry unquestionably contributes to the degradation of ecological systems due to the visits of divers from around the world. Many regions have been altered to serve as diving destinations: artificial reefs, shipwrecks, coastal interventions have been undertaken to enhance accessibility to sensitive ecosystems. The consequences of this overexploitation are evident in many parts of the world, where local diving cultures that are more eco-sensitive have become marginalized or even extinct. In contrast, the progression of marine ecotourism and heightened awareness among divers regarding marine environmental pollution and the endangerment of marine species may contribute to ecological consciousness, a theme explored in this chapter. The content of this awareness includes its ideological frameworks and how ideas like the underwater world as a delicate natural environment are mirrored in diver narratives and diving media. The extent to which the

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commercialized underwater sensory experience is influenced by these representations of sensitive ecosystems is also a consideration. Additionally, the interconnection of personal practices with broader concerns about nature’s vulnerability within the global diving community is examined. In the ninth and concluding chapter, we delve into the ontology and politics of subaquatic mobility, within the context of current political issues. The experience of underwater exploration, stemming from the practice of recreational diving, is lived as a journey that transgresses the boundaries between the biological and the technological, at the intersection of the cultural and the natural. The scuba diver becomes an ontological traveler. This outcome arises not only from the experience of underwater journeys itself but also from the representations that construct the depths as a place of recreation and as an ecologically sensitive environment. The fluidity in the underwater world, the liquid strata that serve as continually transgressed navigational borders, from the colorful, fish-filled underwater realm to the dark abysses, the constant sound of breathing and bubbles reminding us of the transient nature of submersion, forges an experience of journeying at the crossroads of the natural and the cultural, the technical and the biological. When the scuba diver is suspended in the water, they find themselves in the midst of these ambiguously defined strata.

CHAPTER 2

The Global in the Local: Scuba Diving in ­Greece

How can this undeniable oneness, this profound essence of the Mediterranean, be explained? Several approaches will be needed. The explanation lies not only in nature, which has played a significant part, nor only in man, who has obstinately bound all together; it lies in both the blessings of nature and its curses, which are equally abundant, and in the manifold labours of man, both past and present; in other words, it lies in an endless succession of chances, accidents, and repeated successes. Fernand Braudel, The Mediterranean: Land, Sea, History, Unesco Courier, December 1985, p. 5.

Recreational scuba diving is a multifaceted activity characterized by contradictory interpretations. This chapter aims to explore the development of recreational diving in Greece, a country with distinctive attributes such as a strong maritime identity and a sponge fishing tradition, and one that is also significantly influenced by global trends. To investigate the evolution of scuba diving in Greece, this study employs specific research methods, conceptualizing recreational diving as a practice intersecting with various social processes and ultimately falling within the domain of leisure and tourism. Conducting such an investigation necessitates the use of a mixed-methodology approach, facilitating an ethnographic focus on the embodied experience of underwater diving while concurrently offering a historical perspective on the institutional arrangements increasingly shaping this global activity. © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Tzanakis, Scuba Diving Practices in Greece, Leisure Studies in a Global Era, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-48839-9_2

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Researching the Local, Understanding the Global In the context of late modernity (Giddens, 1990), the mobility of people and ideas has increased due to advancements in transport and communication technology, as well as social and economic processes, such as diving tourism in our case study. A focal point in contemporary debates on globalization is the dynamic interaction between the local and the global, encapsulated in the term “glocalization” (Robertson, 1995). This linguistic hybrid accentuates the persistent ambiguities and contradictions in the ways the global impacts the local, and vice versa. According to Robertson (1995, 2000), the global condition is not solely defined by the homogenization of global structures through linear dominance over local specificities. Trends toward homogeneity and centralization coexist with tendencies toward heterogeneity and decentralization. These are sometimes a response from local communities feeling threatened by undefined “invaders,” or at other times, a result of joining global networks that promote local brands or identities. In the specific context of scuba diving in Greece, its transformation into a recreational activity has been grounded in a globally standardized set of conditions, which have become dominant. For this investigation, the methodological perception of Appadurai (1996) is adopted, advocating for ethnographic research that addresses both the global and local dimensions. Ideas and diving practices circulate through fields that are continually strengthening, rooted both in everevolving local traditions and primarily in globally networked institutions (Aitchison, 2001; Appadurai, 1990; Driessen, 1998, 2005; Clifford, 1988, 1997; Featherstone, 1995; Waters, 1995). Although the primary objective of this book is not to unravel how the global interacts with the local, an exploration into the history of scuba diving in Greece employing a variety of sociological research techniques aims to shed light on key facets of how escalating global processes in the leisure sector has shaped behavioral and perceptual patterns in the realm of diving. In the case under scrutiny, a tripartite approach is beneficial for understanding the historical formation of submarine experience patterns that have arisen through global processes of standardization and institutional organization, as well as the dynamic flows through which scuba diving has progressively become a globalized tourist commodity. Investigating a paradigmatic case, such as Greece, affords the opportunity to underscore the agency of local and national actors at both institutional and organizational tiers in influencing global dynamics. These actors’ interventions have

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incrementally incorporated scuba diving into the sphere of recreation through the dissemination of ideas and practices at the national and local levels. As will be demonstrated, the agency of these actors culminates in the harmonization of national and local maritime and nautical traditions with the cultural, linguistic, social, and economic norms specific to the field of recreational diving. This harmonization has led to: (a) an augmented globalized gaze, oriented both outwardly toward the global diving community and inwardly toward the modern embodied self; (b) a diving practice increasingly predicated on globalized conditions, including specialized equipment, continuously evolving knowledge of underwater physiology, and standardized training; and (c) a burgeoning ecological awareness concerning the underwater environment and aquatic life. These globalized standards coalesce with local traditions, yielding fluid hybrids of perception and practice. In this narrative, I aim to elucidate particular patterns, commencing from the premise that a historical perspective is indispensable. My focus will be on the historical formation of the embodied experience of recreational diving in Greece, scrutinizing the interlinkages of currents shaping the contemporary globalized experience of diving. To this end, I will employ a periodization framework, delineating: (a) the era of naval special forces and professional diving, (b) the epoch when diving gained recognition as a sport, (c) its subsequent integration into the realm of recreation, and (d) its characterization as a specialized form of tourism. This periodization relates specifically to the social organization of recreational scuba diving. Consequently, the history of particular activities such as scientific diving, the relatively recent proliferation of technical diving, as well as niche areas like wreck and cave diving, which straddle the boundary between recreation and research, is not addressed here. It is crucial not to perceive this periodization as a sequence of strictly discrete “stages,” where one phase recedes, giving way to the succeeding one. In each period, a distinct type of underwater embodiment prevails, comprising a specific underwater sensory regime tethered to a corresponding emotional economy and institutional frameworks that govern individual and collective activities. The quest for a clear origin and strict periodization in history is not only illusory but also laden with ideological implications shaped by the current milieu. Hence, it is advisable to acknowledge “the simultaneous co-existence of different and often clashing temporal regimes in each context” (Hamilakis, 2022: 5). In this light,

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we observe that periods interpenetrate, resulting in the concurrent existence of alternative modes of underwater experience. While these alternative forms are not necessarily in competition, they often exist in a dialectical and contrasting relationship within the domain of quotidian underwater practices. Each period is defined more by the predominance of certain emotional contexts rather than by successively distinct stages. In every period, a specific relational model with the embodied self in the aquatic milieu of the sea gains prominence, accompanied by distinct moral and ethical considerations, which this book aims to explore in detail.

Research Methods To address the research questions pertaining to the progressively evolving underwater experience, shaped by local, national, and increasingly international institutional regulations, a multi-methodological framework is employed. Specifically, the following techniques will be integrated into a historical-phenomenological approach: (a) a retrospective autoethnography, grounded in the author’s personal experience both as a diver and former diving instructor; (b) an amphibious ethnography, encompassing (i) observations conducted in locations where recreational scuba diving is practiced, such as diving centers, (ii) semi-structured interviews with recreational divers, (iii) semi-structured interviews with professionals, instructors, and workers at diving centers, and (iv) biographical narratives of pioneers in the Greek scuba diving landscape; (c) a digital ethnography of online scuba diving communities; (d) a review of specialized diving publications, primarily the magazine of the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities, Orion (1962–1970), followed by the magazine Ypovrychios Kosmos (Underwater World, 1971–2006); and (e) an archival study of the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities (EOUDA), including private archives and legal texts. The adoption of these varied methodologies is deemed essential to facilitate a historical lens through which the gradual evolution of the underwater sensorium can be understood. Undoubtedly, employing multiple methods or data sources to examine a phenomenon is an established technique for triangulation aimed at enhancing the validity and reliability of findings (Denzin, 1978), fostering a more comprehensive understanding of the researched phenomenon (Creswell & Clark, 2017; Flick, 2018; Richardson, 2000), and mitigating the impact of researcher bias or errors (Bryman, 2016; Jick, 1979). Nevertheless, the objective of utilizing a

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multi-methodological approach is not solely to bolster the credibility of the findings (Maxwell, 2013). Rather, the principal aim is to attain a more nuanced understanding of a multifaceted social phenomenon (Pelto, 2017), such as recreational scuba diving practices, at these complex, interwoven strata of history and individual experience. Autoethnography In the examination of the multisensory experience associated with scuba diving, I draw upon my own experiences as a scuba diver. This methodological choice of employing personal experiences as a data source is commonly identified in contemporary scholarly discourse as autoethnography (Allen-Collinson, 2013; Allen-Collinson & Hockey, 2008). Autoethnography is a subcategory of qualitative research methodologies that amalgamates individual experiences with cultural analysis. It places a high premium on subjectivity, reflexivity, and personal narratives as integral facets of the research procedure (Denshire, 2014; Ellis & Bochner, 2000, 2006; Sykes et  al., 2005; Wolcott, 2008). As a mode of self-­ ethnography, it positions the researcher as both the subject and object of the inquiry (Reed-Danahay, 1997). The methodology has been further refined by scholars such as Carolyn Ellis (2004), who advocate for the incorporation of personal narrative and autoethnography as instrumental avenues for delving into the complexities of cultural phenomena, including recreational diving. Consequently, autoethnography concentrates on the researcher’s embodied and situated experiences (Allen-Collinson, 2013; Sparkes, 2000), as manifested in the embodied experience of underwater exploration. It is important to clarify that autoethnography is often not an isolated variant of ethnography but rather a dimension thereof. This dimension actively engages the researcher in scrutinizing and elucidating a culture or social group from an insider’s vantage point (Ngunjiri et al., 2010), in this instance, as a scuba diver and former instructor. This insider perspective is generally an inherent component of ethnography, allowing the researcher to investigate their own corporeality and subjectivity in relation to the social milieu. This is particularly salient when the study focuses on phenomena in which the researcher has an objective participatory role, or communities to which the researcher belongs. The objective is to encapsulate the intricacy and heterogeneity of human embodied experience

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(Allen-Collinson, 2011a, 2012; Donnelly, 2000; Dyson, 2007; Spry, 2001). The privileging of personal experience in autoethnography, while presenting distinct advantages, can also become a point of contention. Detractors of this methodology argue that its reliance on the researcher’s individual experience compromises its objectivity and methodological rigor, thereby impairing its external validity (Anderson, 2006a, 2006b). Moreover, there are concerns that autoethnography may inadvertently perpetuate dominant cultural narratives or exacerbate existing power imbalances (Bochner & Ellis, 2002). Such criticisms become particularly relevant when research ascribes undue significance to specific practices, such as scuba diving. To mitigate these limitations, the researcher’s role within the research context requires sustained reflexivity and awareness throughout the research process (Anderson, 2006a, 2006b; Ellis & Bochner, 2000; Wall, 2006). Continuous methodological scrutiny is imperative to maintain the integrity of the research. This vigilance is also instrumental in addressing ethical and moral dilemmas, such as respecting the privacy of individuals involved in shared activities. For instance, the ethical quandary emerges when dive buddies are unaware of the researcher’s dual role as participant and investigator (Chang, 2008). This constitutes perhaps the most pressing moral issue in this type of research. Nonetheless, the risk of generating overly subjective or skewed accounts of the social world under study can be mitigated through technical approaches. The most effective strategy, and the one adopted in this book, is methodological triangulation. This involves the employment of multiple research techniques—including interviews, observations, and textual analysis—to bolster the study’s comprehensiveness and reliability (Ellis, 2004). Such a multi-methodological approach serves to counterbalance the subjective aspects inherent in autoethnographic research, offering a more nuanced and robust understanding of the subject matter. My personal journey into the world of scuba diving traces its origins back to my childhood in a small coastal town in Greece, approximately fifty years ago. I am a part of a generation for whom the sea represented an arena of both leisure and playful exploration. The initial interactions with the marine environment were rudimentary, often featuring just a snorkel, mask, and fins. For many among us, these childhood experiences evolved, eventually culminating in systematic spearfishing, thereby deepening our engagement with the underwater world.

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Contrastingly, prior generations held a notably different relationship with the sea. Many, including relatives of mine, did not even know how to swim. I recall an uncle who was an avid fisherman but only from the shore, with his fishing pole serving as the limit of his maritime experience. His interactions with the water seldom went beyond wetting his ankles. His wife, my aunt, has never been one to swim. The architectural orientation of their homes—often turning their backs to the sea—symbolizes this generation’s relationship with the maritime environment, only facing the sea if climatic conditions, such as protection from the winter winds, necessitated it. While some learned to swim and even adopted it as a summer ritual, it was a rarity to find individuals—typically men—who ventured beyond the surface to explore the depths below, usually for spearfishing. The generational shifts in maritime engagement reflect broader socio-­ cultural transformations, from a utilitarian or even avoidant approach to one that embraces the sea as a realm for recreation and personal fulfillment. This progression signifies not merely a shift in practices but in the very emotional and sensory landscape of human-sea interactions. The comparison between these generational attitudes toward the sea offers a rich tapestry for understanding the complex evolution of underwater experiences and practices, and serves as an invaluable backdrop against which contemporary forms of recreational diving can be understood. Until the mid-twentieth century, the maritime landscape in Greece was not broadly conceived as a space for leisure or recreational activities like swimming or diving. Despite Greece’s rich maritime history, such as the Dodecanese islands with their diving traditions rooted in sponging techniques that utilized diving helmets or skandalopetra (bellstone; see Kalafatas, 2003), the sea primarily functioned as a medium to be crossed for travel purposes, rather than a final destination. The sea’s social construction began to shift in the post-war era, progressively transforming into a venue for leisure and recreation. It evolved into a quintessential emblem of summer holidays and languid, sun-soaked afternoons. The sea, and eventually its depths, became symbolic of a set of recreational activities that feed the Western imagination with visions of rejuvenation and return to nature. In contemporary times, this shift in perception is palpably evident in architectural designs and residential planning. Unlike older constructions that were oriented away from the sea, contemporary houses in my hometown now prioritize sea views. This trend also holds true for tourist accommodations, where a sea view is considered a premium feature. As these

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structures undergo renovation, architectural designs often emphasize creating visual corridors that allow the sea to be visible from the interiors or balconies. Consequently, the sea now captivates a varied audience—residents, architects, tourists, and professionals alike—serving as a lucrative trade of experiences and emotions that range from euphoria to tranquility. This gradual yet profound shift reveals an evolving socio-cultural relationship with the sea. It moves from a pragmatic utility to a complex symbolic realm where notions of leisure, identity, and emotional well-being are intricately intertwined. This transformation not only speaks to the changing practices around the sea but also mirrors broader socio-economic and cultural shifts, including the rise of tourism and the commodification of natural spaces for recreational and aesthetic consumption. In 1987, upon reaching the age of 18, I learned about an opportunity to enroll in an introductory scuba diving course offered by a Nautical Club located approximately 100 kilometers away from my hometown. Successful completion of the course would grant a one-star certification from CMAS (Confédération Mondiale des Activités Subaquatiques), globally recognized as a leading authority on underwater activities. The certification also carried the endorsement of EOUDA (Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities), the national body overseeing underwater activities in Greece. At that juncture, CMAS was the sole certifying organization recognized by EOUDA. The training was outsourced to a private diving school in Athens, and the Nautical Club, a founding member of EOUDA, facilitated the course. During that period, although many instructors and dive masters held credentials from other organizations, typically PADI (Professional Association of Diving Instructors), these certifications were largely relegated to private diving centers and primarily geared toward training or accompanying foreign tourists. My friend and I traveled to Heraklion for approximately ten days to participate in this diving training. The curriculum adhered strictly to the guidelines stipulated by EOUDA and CMAS. It encompassed theoretical training on diving physics and physiology, as well as practical instruction on the use of diving equipment. The initial practical exercises were conducted in a hotel swimming pool before transitioning to open-water sessions. Given my pre-existing familiarity and comfort with the sea, I found the practical components of the course relatively straightforward to complete. Similarly, the theoretical aspects posed no substantial difficulties for me (Photo 2.1).

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Photo 2.1  The author (in the right) during his first training session in scuba diving in 1987, in the hotel pool in Heraklion, Crete. Source: Author’s personal archive

This early formative experience not just encapsulates the technical aspects of scuba diving training but also situates it within the broader socio-cultural and regulatory landscape of underwater activities in Greece at the time. It reflects how formal diving instruction was institutionally organized, who it was primarily geared toward, and how it intersected with international standards. It also underscores the evolving role of recreational scuba diving in Greece within a global framework of certifications and training. I vividly recall those inaugural underwater expeditions, where the novel sensation of breathing beneath the water’s surface struck me profoundly.

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These experiences served as my gateway into an entirely new realm—one where the capacity to breathe underwater distinguished me as part of a unique cohort of individuals. This newfound ability to remain submerged and explore the aquatic milieu radically expanded my perceptual landscape. It was not merely an act of physical submersion; it also represented an ontological shift, signaling my entry into a distinct social and experiential community. These initial dives were pivotal in shaping my understanding of what it means to be an underwater explorer. They also instilled in me a deep sense of belonging to a specialized group of people who share similar competencies and experiences. This collective identity further deepened my connection to the activity, reinforcing the sense of wonder and privilege that came with being able to breathe underwater. The simple act of inhaling and exhaling beneath the water’s surface encapsulated a transformative process—one that extended beyond mere technical proficiency, altering my relationship with the natural world, while situating me within a larger cultural and social tapestry of underwater explorers (Photo 2.2).

Photo 2.2  The author (in the center) during his first training session in scuba diving in 1987, in the hotel pool in Heraklion, Crete. Source: Author’s personal archive

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A year subsequent to earning my first diving certification, I ventured to Athens to acquire a second two-star certification from CMAS through an international private scuba diving school. This was after gaining considerable experience in the waters off the northern coast of Crete, diving alongside a consistent diving partner—the friend with whom I initially obtained my certification. It is worth mentioning that at this juncture, diving in Crete was illegal, a point elaborated upon in the succeeding chapter of this book. This prohibition was not exclusive to Crete but was a nationwide directive, exempting only select areas in Attica and certain tourist locations where diving centers were operational. While diving, we were ever vigilant for harbor police patrols and strategically opted for remote locations with interesting underwater topographies. Subsequently, I returned to Athens to complete my amateur training series by obtaining a three-star certification from the same international scuba diving school. Although this qualification is on par with PADI’s dive master level and allows one to work in diving centers, it did not garner EOUDA recognition. This was due to a handful of professionals who monopolized certifications at the professional level—a subject expounded upon in the fifth chapter of this book. Consequently, I underwent another training program at an EOUDA facility to secure a second three-star certification, this time officially recognized by CMAS. Later, I earned my first certification as a one-star CMAS instructor. During my journalistic studies in Athens between 1990 and 1993, I occasionally worked as an assistant instructor with the International School of Scuba Diving. The remuneration from this employment was primarily allocated for purchasing my personal diving gear and funding diving excursions in Attica and nearby regions. Contrary to my journalistic studies, which did not elicit much enthusiasm, I found great pleasure in training new divers. I contemplated establishing the first diving center in Eastern Crete. However, the general prohibition on diving imposed a labyrinth of bureaucratic hurdles to navigate. Specifically, an application had to be submitted to the Marine Antiquities Service under the Ministry of Culture in Athens. This application would request that specialized divers assess the targeted area for the presence of historical artifacts or antiquities. A successful assessment would then “liberate” the area, allowing diving activities. Despite the myriad challenges, I chose to embark on this venture in collaboration with a like-­ minded businessman and diver. Regrettably, our application was denied. A more detailed discussion on the ban on diving in Greece and the

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concomitant monopolization of professional certifications will be presented in the fifth chapter of this book. Consequently, I opted to relinquish my ambitions of a professional diving career and redirected my focus toward academic pursuits, specifically in sociology, in Rethymno, Crete. Though diving continued to be part of my life, the frequency lessened, and my diving partners varied. Additionally, there were sporadic intervals when the demands of my professional commitments became overwhelming, precluding me from engaging in my diving hobby. This book serves as a re-entry into the universe of diving—a subject not merely of scholarly interest but one intricately woven into the fabric of my personal history. As I pen these words, I metaphorically don both the diving mask and the lens of a sociologist. This dual perspective permits me to revisit the marine environments, reflecting on the tactile sensations of salt on my skin, the pre-dive anticipation, and the comforting touch of sunlight upon surfacing, either on a rocky outcrop or on a sandy beach. The experiences I recount here, which have also been enriched by dives conducted in the course of writing this book, are now available for broader dissemination. These firsthand experiences, transmuted into imagery and emotional states, intermingle with the emotive accounts of older divers who narrate tales of bygone heroic eras. They converge with the environmental apprehensions of a younger generation of divers alarmed by the ecological ramifications of human activities. These narrative layers are interspersed with delightful sojourns through the salty Greek waters and beyond, the strange yet thrilling sensation of underwater respiration, the liberating feeling of weightlessness that simulates flight, and the joy derived from physical interface with this intriguing subaqueous world (Jue, 2020). Amphibious Ethnography and Interviews Field research necessitates a multiplicity of competencies and sensibilities, including methodological rigor, ethical awareness, proficiency in the use of research instruments, and a continuous engagement with both the historical moment and the longer durée. It is insufficient to merely document the narratives and perspectives of local participants, as in the case of the scuba diving community in Greece—an entity that forms part of a globalized diving nexus. A more comprehensive understanding of underlying processes is also requisite. These processes, in

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fleeting moments of interviews, conversations, interactions, meaningful gazes, or the re-experiencing of bodily sensations underwater, can momentarily take on the guise of objectivity. This is not objectivity as something extrinsic to the conscious experiences of the divers, but as a historically contingent process that continually shapes the meanings ascribed to various elements (Gaddis, 2002), as the seabed, the diving body, the technology in use, and the act of recreational diving as a social practice. The methodological approach in this study can be more precisely described as amphibious ethnography, a perspective rooted in anthropological practice. This is not merely an application of ethnographic techniques to the liminal zones between terra firma and aquatic landscapes. Rather, it conceptualizes these land/water interstices as fields possessing their own distinct relational ontologies (Crick, 1995; Gagné & Rasmussen, 2016; Ballestero, 2019a, 2019b). The approach necessitates a nuanced understanding of the dynamic interrelations between land, water, and the communities and individuals who navigate these spaces (Rodineliussen, 1917). It acknowledges the criticality of environmental context and the materiality of water, while also emphasizing the need for methodological adaptability and inventiveness (Barley, 2000). An amphibious ethnographer must possess the capability to traverse varying environments, both terrestrial and aquatic, and remain receptive to the experiences and viewpoints of the divers, as well as to the broader cultural, social, and political contexts that inform these experiences. From this vantage point, scuba diving serves as a lens through which to examine the fundamental relationships that humans maintain with aquatic environments, including seas and oceans. Water is not regarded as a neutral medium but as a surface imbued with cultural significance, a canvas upon which collective aspirations, anxieties about global climate change, desires, and emotional states are inscribed (Hastrup & Hastrup, 2015). Communities, such as the globally interconnected networks of recreational divers, engage with both their natural and socio-cultural environments, often serving as intermediaries that convey cultural meanings (Strang, 2005a, 2011). Amphibious ethnography endeavors to transcend the nature-culture dichotomy (Ballestero, 2019a, 2019b). In the context of this study, it seeks to illuminate the nexus between embodied underwater experiences, ecological considerations, and global norms in the realms of recreation and tourism. The fluid nature of water serves as a metaphor and material

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manifestation for the fluid and dynamic character of individual social identities, particularly within the frameworks of late modernity (Giddens) and risk society (Beck, 1992), where nomadic subjectivities flourish (Braidotti, 2006). Both metaphorically and materially, water operates as a conduit through which we can comprehend pivotal facets of modern subjectivity’s liquidity. Investigating “wet self-practices” offers a singular vantage point for understanding sensorially active and culturally meaningful water/landscapes (Orlove & Caton, 2010). The seabed—often romanticized as a return to nature and laden with fantasies of recreation and hedonistic adventure, increasingly accompanied by ecological concerns—serves as a fluid repository of meanings, as highlighted in Strang’s comprehensive work (2004, 2005a, 2005b, 2006a, 2006b, 2009). Within this aqueous archive of significance, the goal is to illuminate crucial conceptions of underwater nature and how individuals derive meaning from submerging themselves in the liquid expanses of seas and oceans for recreational purposes. Ever since embarking on the writing of this book, each encounter with the sea, be it through free diving or scuba diving, has acquired renewed importance as an act of ethnographic inquiry. With every underwater journey, the lens of an amphibious sociologist is donned, aimed at capturing the nuances concerning people’s relationship with water, the embodied sensations of wetness, and the pleasures derived from these subaqueous voyages. For several years, my dialogues with fellow divers have metamorphosed into a form of informal interviewing. Beyond the simple pleasure of the diving activity, I initiated conversations to delve into the divers’ lived experiences. Topics spanned a wide array, including environmental concerns, safety perceptions, fishing habits, equipment preferences, and the locations where air tanks were refilled. Furthermore, I probed into the initial impetus for their diving pursuits, affiliations with diving clubs, types of certifications, and their rationale behind selecting specific diving training providers. We also engaged in discussions about their future diving agendas, whether involving advanced certifications or procurement of high-­ end equipment. The dialogues often ventured into the realm of state-level policies, including previous legislative restrictions on diving activities, a framework that had for a period cultivated a perception of diving as an illicit endeavor—a sentiment that continues to subtly inform the psyche of older divers, myself included.

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Concurrently, I conducted participant observations to scrutinize the divers’ underwater behaviors, preferences in seabed locations, distance from underwater rock formations, adherence to decompression protocols, and post-dive equipment management. Discussions also turned toward their immediate experiences—what they felt and observed on the sea floor they had just left behind. The ensuing chapters are, in part, an articulation of these humid dialogues, usually conducted under the radiant Greek summer sun, albeit some occurred during nocturnal excursions or on arid winter Sunday mornings. During the course of my research, opportunities arose to interact with the diving community in settings detached from the sea—be it in diving equipment retailers or diving centers. In these contexts, I prompted discussions about their professional lives, client demographics, and future business strategies, if applicable. Casual conversations also unfolded over coffee or meals, where tales of underwater adventures were recounted, sometimes embellished with narratives of encountered perils and extraordinary marine life. While some conversations were purposeful and directed, in all instances, personal experiences were reciprocally shared, aiming to deepen the understanding of the interviewees and their intricate relationships with the maritime environment. In every targeted conversation, a consistent introductory format was employed. I would identify myself thus: “I am a former scuba diving instructor in Greece. While I no longer dive as frequently, I am currently authoring a book focused on the history of diving in Greece.” Upon disclosure of my sociological background, interlocutors often registered surprise, unaccustomed as they were to considering sociology within the context of marine activities. Nonetheless, the significance of historical preservation resonated universally, albeit for a variety of reasons. While the precise number of individuals with whom I engaged remains elusive, it certainly exceeds fifty and likely falls shy of one hundred. My research endeavors extended to direct interactions with seminal figures in Greek scuba diving, both at regional and national scales. This cohort included living legends and entrepreneurs, as well as individuals of local repute embedded within maritime cultures—familiar faces to those who frequent marine environments. These exchanges were dutifully recorded and transcribed for subsequent analytical scrutiny. Supplementing the primary data are narrative accounts sourced from eight extensive semi-structured interviews conducted with amateur divers of diverse ages and genders, originating from a small tourist-oriented

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island in Greece. Additionally, nine interviews were conducted with professional divers employed at diving centers located on another Greek tourist island. Some of these interviews with amateur divers were facilitated by Maria Kasfiki and those with professionals by Eleftheria Zervou, both operating under my direction; their contributions are gratefully acknowledged. To preserve the privacy of interviewees and others referenced in the ensuing chapters, quotations have been anonymized. Exceptions to this anonymity are restricted to brief quotations or citations from already-­ public sources, typically specialized magazines dedicated to diving and marine recreational activities. Digital Ethnography The advent of internet utilization for academic inquiry into sports, leisure, and tourism dates back to earlier stages of digital technology (Scarrott, 1999). The contemporary landscape, however, has witnessed an uptick in internet-enabled research modalities, ushering in the emergence of a distinct methodological approach, the digital ethnography. This approach necessitates studying human conduct and cultural phenomena within digital or online environments (Hine, 2015; Pink et al., 2016). The methodology typically employs digital instruments and technologies, ranging from social media platforms to online communities and other virtual spheres for data gathering and analysis (Baym, 2015; Boellstorff et  al., 2012; Kozinets, 2010). I engaged in this particular methodological framework by conducting systematic observations of diving center websites, both within the Greek context and across globally renowned diving destinations. Additionally, I participated in multiple Facebook groups, that were usually open to the public and with many members. The scrutiny of diving center websites was orchestrated with meticulous attention to two explicit criteria: the nature of the diving services on offer and the accompanying marketing strategies. This twofold focus yielded primary categorizations of the “marketable product,” thereby illuminating the diverse forms of diving that have integrated into both the global tourism grid and the broader diving industry (see Chap. 6). Concurrently, the promotional modalities employed provided significant clues regarding the conceptualization of the underwater realm and seabed. They also shed light on the ideological dimensions of recreational

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diving as revealed through the attributes that are strategically highlighted in marketing endeavors. Engaging in digital ethnography reached its most intriguing and enjoyable peak through my active participation in online communities dedicated to scuba diving. These online platforms serve as hubs for scuba divers, facilitating member networking on a virtual scale. However, it is crucial to note that the sheer number of members in these online spaces does not equate to active, systematic participation. A mere subset of these members interacts with regularity, and divers often hold memberships in multiple online communities, each possessing a distinct thematic focus. Consequently, the cumulative membership count within any single virtual community does not provide an accurate depiction of the number of divers or the diversity of their interests actively participating across these platforms. For the selection of online communities to engage in, I employed a criterion-based approach, necessitating that the community in question satisfy at least one of the following parameters: (a) A concentrated focus on the history of diving. (b) Membership within extensive, global communities with a primary emphasis on recreational scuba diving. (c) Membership within localized online communities that focus on recreational scuba diving, irrespective of membership count, but with a particular interest in Greek-centric collectives. (d) Membership in specialized groups that focus on offering professional opportunities within the sphere of recreational diving. Table 2.1 in the subsequent chapter offers an overview of the communities whose digital content has been subjected to thematic analysis. This analysis, grounded in theoretical sampling, was conducted at a specific juncture in the summer of 2022. Through engagement in these online communities via participant observation, I targeted the elucidation of dominant thematic undercurrents in posts and the recurring patterns manifest in public comments. Specifically, the analytical focus was oriented toward: (a) The thematic treatment of diving history across specialized digital platforms.

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Table 2.1  Overview of global diving Meta Facebook networks as of June 2022 Title Historical-focused networks ADHE (Avalon diving history exhibit) Historical diving society the Netherlands Historical diving society Asia Sport Diving History (1950–1990) Coastal and maritime cultural heritage Diving history association Plongée vintage Retro diving Worldwide networks Anarchy scuba spot Divers around the world LoveScuba❤ Scuba diving worldwide UNCENSORED scuba Scuba diving trips Scuba divers Scuba Diver’s Club SCUBA DIVERS UNCENSORED Scuba diving Scuba diving adventures Scuba diving community Local networks around the world Central Florida scuba diving Club SCUBA DIVING USA Florida divers network Scuba diving South Florida Professional networks Padi dive professionals—job offers PADI INSTRUCTORS PADI, NAUI, SSI, CMAS and others.—group of recreational diving Learn to dive with PADI Thematic networks Underwater photographers UNDERWATER PHOTOGRAPHY Scuba accidents and risk management techniques for divers WORLD OF SCUBA World of scuba diving Worldwide scuba diving enthusiasts

Number of Members (June, 2022) 787 587 2000 24,200 1200 308 17,000 35,000 7100 91,700 39,200 17,900 3100 1014 674 3500 69,800 17,000 3000 2300 9600 4800 2900 10,600 35,000 4100 53,800 10,700 17,100 185,800 39,900 877 4100 4400 (continued)

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Table 2.1 (continued) Title

Number of Members (June, 2022)

Destination dive vacations Dive jobs worldwide SCUBA WOMEN Marine biology of the Mediterranean Over 50s scuba diving Club Greek networks Crete divers club Samos divers—Samos divers association Underwater life of Greece Underwater photography in Greece Shipwrecks of the Greek seas Tethys scuba Club Crete divers association Greek divers association Volos divers association

1074 86,600 2500 1600 6600 404 3400 6500 4400 4400 2300 402 49 600

(b) The framing of scuba diving as a recreational endeavor, particularly in relation to its associated social dimensions—ranging from travel and equipment to safe destination recommendations and adherence to safety protocols. (c) Identifying prevalent ethical considerations pertaining to the marine environment and embodied experiences underwater. While digital ethnography avails unique opportunities for in-depth comprehension, it also poses certain ethical and methodological challenges, including safeguarding participant anonymity and data reliability. Therefore, it is imperative to exercise both ethical rigor and methodological vigilance when utilizing digital ethnographic methods. The objective of my research was not to systematically record and analyze the transient public discourse within targeted social media ecosystems. Instead, my aim was to deepen our understanding of the globalized web of recreational scuba divers. Specifically, I examined how these online platforms function as conduits for both articulating and disseminating prevalent conceptions related to underwater embodiment, environmental ethics, and the

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technological dimensions intrinsic to the practice of diving. Through this lens, my research contributes valuable insights into the cultural tapestry and practical realities of scuba diving as well as the lived experiences of its diverse participants. Ethical considerations related to privacy occupied a central role throughout the digital ethnographic inquiry. Given that online spaces can often compromise the privacy of individuals whose behaviors and interactions are under study (Markham, 2012; Ess, 2014), utmost care was taken to adhere to ethical and responsible research protocols. The quotes and analytical content deployed in this book were meticulously modified or, more frequently, truncated to brief phrases that could not be traced back to their original authors. This aspect was of particular import, considering the nature of the study focused on individuals’ engagement in specialized online communities dedicated to various facets of recreational scuba diving, spanning topics from underwater photography to advancements in diving equipment. While partaking in these populated online groups, I assumed the role of a fellow scuba diver, withholding my identity as a researcher. Explicit declarations of my research agenda—identified as “an author engaged in a book on the history of scuba diving in Greece”—were reserved for rare instances, such as engaging in discussions with group administrators or partaking in smaller, Greece-centric online circles. Importantly, no sensitive data, including personal identifiers or private communications, was utilized, archived, or cited in this text. Upholding the principles of anonymity and privacy stood as a key ethical pillar throughout my virtual sojourns in these public domains, where both amateur and professional scuba divers congregated to share viewpoints, images, and lived experiences. Within these virtual assemblies, scuba diving enthusiasts engage in a multifaceted array of activities. These range from intellectual exchanges and narrative accounts of diving excursions to the sharing of photographs depicting exotic marine landscapes. Additionally, members disseminate and seek travel intel concerning renowned global diving locales, update one another on novel equipment innovations, and occasionally scout for diving companions. Noteworthy are the ethical deliberations that surface, such as the moral implications of disturbing marine fauna for photographic purposes or the advisable distance one should maintain from coral reefs to mitigate environmental impact. Such ethical dialogues often generate considerable engagement in the form of comments and likes, despite the relative passivity of the majority of group members. Infrequent yet intense

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disagreements over content or viewpoints serve as illuminating flashpoints, revealing underlying tensions, emergent ethical sensitivities, and key moral orientations within the community. Specialized online platforms with a historical focus on scuba diving feature content ranging from events, seminars, and lectures to archival photographs and personal reminiscences. Occasionally, these posts exude a nostalgic ambience, particularly when harking back to the “heroic epochs” of pioneering figures in the diving community. Online communities in the realm of scuba diving fulfill more than just social and informational functions; they also operate as commercial platforms. These digital spaces facilitate the promotion of diving tourism destinations, novel equipment, and various training services. Additionally, these communities often become conduits for organizing diving expeditions and events, especially at localized or national scales in smaller countries. My engagement with these online spaces allowed me to partake in web-based seminars hosted by Greek diving clubs and to attend noteworthy international presentations, a trend that became increasingly prevalent during the COVID-19 pandemic lockdowns. Moreover, these virtual environments served as a nexus for extending and receiving diving invitations. On one occasion, I was invited to join fellow divers in a recreational dive. In another instance, I participated in a seabed-cleaning operation off the northern coast of Crete, a venture initiated by an informal assembly of scuba divers in response to a public call to action. It is important to underscore that the utilization of online ethnography was not a standalone methodology but was instead integrated as a component of a broader sociological investigation into the universe of recreational scuba diving. The Magazines Within the scope of this research, I undertook a detailed examination of two specialist magazines dedicated to marine underwater activities. The inaugural publication considered was Orion, known in Greek as “ΩΡΙΩΝ.” It functions as the official bulletin of the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities (EOUDA) and holds the distinction of being a pioneering public platform for underwater activities in Greece. First published in 1962, the magazine ceased its run in 1971 after the release of 37 issues. With the consent of the president of EOUDA, I was granted access to a majority of these issues and was authorized to digitize them for my scholarly

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investigation. For a few elusive editions, my research necessitated a visit to the National Library of Greece. The second page of the magazine bears its title in Greek, but starting from the third issue (1962), the publication is also identified in French as the “Bulletin Officiel de la Fédération Hellénique des Activités Sub-­ aquatiques et de la Pêche Sportive.” Initially, the magazine acknowledged the honorary presidency of Her Majesty the Queen of Greece. However, post-1968, amidst a political crisis and a conflict between the monarchy and the ruling military junta that had seized power through a coup, this royal acknowledgment was omitted. This change serves as a noteworthy editorial shift, reflecting the tumultuous sociopolitical landscape of Greece during that period. Orion functioned not merely as an avenue for the official articulation of the perspectives and aspirations of Greece’s burgeoning diving community but also as a conduit for news from the global diving arena. Its existence provided an essential linkage between the incipient Greek diving community and its international counterparts. The publication ceased its operations with the issuance of its 37th issue, which covered the period from January to October of 1971. The discontinuation of Orion was concurrently marked by the emergence of a new magazine titled Ypovrychios Kosmos (Underwater World, see Photo 2.3.). This publication was seminal in shaping Greece’s diving community, boasting an extensive run from January 1971 until mid-2006, during which 417 issues were released. Spanning a period of thirty-­ six years, it served as the most prevalent source of information for developments in the diving sector. While the majority of its content was concentrated on spearfishing, the magazine also continuously featured updates on broader diving trends. It thus became an essential reading material for those committedly engaged in diving, standing as the sole publication medium for opinions, advertisements, and articles on advancements in the diving field. Most of the magazine’s issues, approximately three-quarters, were loaned to me by the president of the Association of Amateur Divers (TITHYS), established in 2007. I successfully arranged for their temporary relocation to the library of the University of Crete in Rethymno, where they underwent digitization. The remaining issues were perused at the National Library of Greece in Athens, where the complete collection is accessible upon request.

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Photo 2.3  Six covers of the magazine Ypovrychios Kosmos (Underwater World, issues 71/1977, 265/1993, 359/2001, 382/2003, 394/2004, 398/2004), dedicated to scuba diving

While the copious material contained within these magazines exceeds the confines of this book, a rigorous analysis of the articles does shed light on various aspects: the topics under scrutiny, the evolutionary trajectory of the subject matter, and emerging ethical dilemmas, which encompass issues such as fishing, the representation of both male and female divers in visual media, burgeoning ecological concerns, and bans on diving activities to prevent harm to submerged antiquities. A methodical examination of these journals furnishes readers with an exhaustive overview of the portrayal of underwater activities across nearly five decades. These public archives encapsulate the diverging interests and

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concerns of individuals involved in diving—as initially male-dominated but increasingly inclusive of women—whether it be as a form of recreation, an interaction with underwater nature, or a connection to local nautical, diving, and broader maritime traditions. This corpus serves as an invaluable resource for understanding the multifaceted history and evolving dynamics of Greece’s diving community. The Archives The archival resources of the EOUDA (Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities) constitute a cornerstone for the historical analysis presented in this book. Having been granted access, I found that a considerable segment of the archive has undergone digitization, facilitating a more comprehensive and methodical examination. The archive is organized into three principal categories: (a) the EOUDA Diving Schools Register, spanning the years 1959 to 2005; (b) the formal transcripts of general assemblies and meetings conducted by the federation’s board of directors, recorded from 1953 through the mid-2000s; and (c) the statutes of EOUDA, from its inception in 1952 to the present, with the latest versions made accessible via the federation’s official website (www.eoyda.gr). The EOUDA Diving Schools Register (1959–2005) stands as the most exhaustive repository of data concerning scuba divers undergoing training in Greece from the federation’s establishment up to the full liberalization of the diving certification for CMAS three-star scuba divers and beyond. While the registry does not capture details about the majority of amateur divers restricted to the first two CMAS levels, it presents an almost comprehensive portrayal of divers who have achieved a minimum of three CMAS stars. Even those who received certifications from alternative organizations, such as PADI or NAUI, generally completed their training under EOUDA, which held the exclusive authority for the accreditation of professional recreational diving skills during this period (as discussed in Chap. 5). This institutional hegemony on certification was conclusively terminated in 2005, owing to legislative changes that fully liberalized the market for scuba diving training across all levels. This deregulation also extended to services provided by diving centers, aimed at fostering the growth of diving tourism within Greece. This legislative pivot significantly propelled PADI into a dominant position within the domestic sphere of recreational diving.

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The minutes from the board meetings and general assemblies of EOUDA serve as an irreplaceable archival resource for comprehending the resolutions enacted by these collective entities. Although these documents do not delve into the nuances of the decision-making procedures or institutional reactions, they do furnish valuable insights into the determinative choices that have influenced the development trajectory of diving within Greece. Furthermore, they reveal the frequency with which these meetings were convened and identify the individuals who were actively involved in them. The chronological span of this archival material allows for a comprehensive mapping of the intersectionality within the diving sphere, particularly in relation to other relevant domains. For example, these records illustrate the federation’s relationships with the scientific community engaged in underwater research, with former navy personnel who played an instrumental role in shaping the federation’s ethos and objectives, and with state organizations such as marine antiquities services and agencies overseeing tourism policy. Moreover, these documents elucidate the cooperative endeavors between federation members, local nautical societies, and recreational fishing clubs in their collective effort to elevate sea sports, including scuba diving. This collaboration was especially prominent before the focal point of the diving sector gradually shifted first toward recreational pursuits and subsequently toward the tourism industry (Photo 2.4). In conclusion, the EOUDA statutes serve as the authoritative record delineating the organization’s objectives, encapsulating shifts within the institutional landscape over time. While these documents do not shed light on the internal decision-making processes, they hold considerable importance as they unveil the character and aspirations that the institutional key players in this domain intended to instill within the Greek diving landscape. Additionally, these statutes offer insights into how transnational organizational structures and understandings of sport diving have been adapted and evolved within the Greek context. Complementing these formal documents, I also utilized materials from private archives, which I typically accessed as a natural extension of the personal relationships I had forged with fellow divers during interviews or actual diving experiences. Consequently, my experiential understanding became deeply entwined with the lived experiences of other participants in the diving community. My own archival collection was further enriched by the records and memories that these individuals chose to share, either directly with me or via publication in magazines or websites. The

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Photo 2.4  On the left, the EOUDA Diving Schools Register 1959–2005 and, on the right, the first book of minutes of the EOUDA general assemblies, years 1953–5. Source: EOUDA

collective history of scuba diving is thus partially constructed from these shared experiences and archival documents.

The Historical Ethnographic Perspective Certainly, the interplay between social life and water has been an enduring focal point in anthropology and social sciences, predating its exploration in environmental disciplines. The seminal text by Malinowski (1984) [1922]) describes a world deeply connected to water, where the Argonauts of the Western Pacific interact through the exchange of materials, ideas, and symbols, making water not merely a resource but a pivotal element of social existence. The dynamism inherent in bodies of water—be it seas, lakes, or rivers— shapes the landscape and lends itself to the fluid symbolism of water as an ever-changing entity, mysterious in its depths and at times perilous. This engagement with water and land spawns what could be termed an

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“ontologically hybrid land/waterscape,” echoing Henri Lefebvre’s (1991) foundational stance on space as an outcome of the dialectical interplay between material and symbolic-ideological aspects. Such a perspective necessitates a questioning of how this interaction between materiality and symbolism crystallizes into particular hybrid wet territories—namely, the spaces where recreational diving occurs in the context of late modernity. Temporal elements further complexify these land/waterscapes. Ingold’s work (1993, 2000, 2007) on the temporality of landscapes, considering as taskscapes, and the historical contexts within which they exist illuminates how human experiences of underwater exploration are shaped. Immersion in these spaces engages not only the mind but also the body, through the practices that constitute the appropriation of space—in this instance, the seafloor. The human body, therefore, does not merely act as an isolated entity but forms a cohesive relationship with the underwater land/waterscape. This connection is facilitated and evolved through organized social practices. Moreover, the aqueous environs stimulate a range of sensations tied to emotional states, thereby activating nuanced perceptions of self, others, and the surrounding natural world. Certainly, the historicity of sensations and emotions stands as a pivotal dimension for understanding embodied experiences, extending beyond the mere cataloging of evolving stimuli (Corbin, 1991a, 1991b). Scuba diving, for instance, immerses individuals in a distinct soundscape, wherein the sound of exhaled bubbles and the regulator noise are not just unique auditory stimuli. These sounds take on added layers of significance within their historical and social context, contributing to a multisensory experience that fortifies an individual’s reflective relationship with their own uniqueness (Tzanakis, 2022, 2023). Thus, this auditory engagement is integrated as a specific modality in the anthropologie sensorielle, an experiential spectrum involving sounds and silences (Corbin, 1991a, 1991b). Taking a more expansive perspective, shifts in external stimuli are concomitant with internal transformations in the construction of subjectivity, meanings, and sensory engagements, especially in the context of recreational activities. It is through this lens that the multisensory experience of recreational scuba diving can be understood in terms of both a sensory regime and an emotional economy. This approach aligns with a well-established tradition in the social sciences of investigating the historical molding of human embodied experience across diverse disciplines and timelines. While the specific term “historical ethnography” may not always be explicitly invoked, the

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orientation is apparent in a wide range of scholarly contributions, such as those by Clifford and Marcus (1986), Jackson and Mazzei (2012), Yow (1996), Sturken and Cartwright (2001), and Pink (2013). Absolutely, the exploration of underwater embodied experiences across temporal spans can indeed be engaged through multiple methodological avenues. Tim Ingold’s (2014) call for an “ethnography of life” pushes the boundaries of conventional ethnographic paradigms that often culminate in static representations of cultures, societies, or practices. He advocates for a focus on processes of becoming, underlining the importance of embodied experiences, sensory engagements, mobility, and creativity as lenses to understand the complex tapestry of human life. To heed Ingold’s methodological suggestion, historical ethnography emerges as an apt research method. This framework marries ethnographic techniques—which delve into cultural practices, values, embodied experiences, and behaviors of an evolving diving community—with historical inquiry (Marshall, 1994). In questing for the personal and subjective experiences of individuals, the phenomenological approach is often employed, providing rich interpretative layers to the lived experiences (Creswell & Poth, 2016). When unpacking the cultural milieu of recreational scuba diving, attention must be paid to how meanings are constructed by the individuals involved (Smith et al., 2009). In congruence with this, the methodological toolkit should include ways to illuminate subjective experiences, such as phenomenological examinations of bodily activities like breathing (Allen-Collinson, 2016; Moustakas, 1994). However, as Wietschorke (2010) proposes, phenomenology—a methodological and philosophical stance concentrated on studying experiences and phenomena as they manifest in consciousness—can be integrated into a historical methodology. This synergy allows for an exploration of how perceptions and experiences within diving communities have been sculpted over time. In this historical lens, a significant role is played by the technoscientific underpinnings of diving, operative across a multitude of diving practices both within Greece and in various regions globally that share a profound human-sea symbiosis. The ways technology intersects with institutional frameworks and economic operations are instrumental in shaping diving conditions and mediating sensory experiences. Certainly, diverse technoscientific and social conditions culminate in the formation of distinct underwater worlds. These intricately constructed realms will be the subject of detailed exploration in subsequent chapters.

CHAPTER 3

Technology and Underwater Worlds

The destruction of the past, or rather of the social mechanisms that link one’s contemporary experience to that of earlier generations, is one of the most characteristic and eerie phenomena of the late twentieth century. Eric Hobsbawm, The Age of Extremes. The Short Twentieth Century 1914-1991, London, Abacus Book, 1995, p. 4.

Diving technology is not a set of tools for use, nor a mere collection of objects. Instead, it constitutes an integral part of the diving experience, serving as the foundational framework for comprehending the history of diving itself. Within this context, technology assumes a pivotal role in shaping diving traditions imbued with social purposes and values, and its preservation is often considered essential in subsequent times. Thus, technology, and the practices of pioneers and, more importantly, everyday actors, become the fundamental elements of an invented tradition influenced by local aquatic customs. The objective of this chapter is to explore the historical context in which technology and underwater practices have evolved in Greece, with a specific focus on the local diving tradition of sponge diving in Kalymnos and the broader Dodecanese region.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Tzanakis, Scuba Diving Practices in Greece, Leisure Studies in a Global Era, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-48839-9_3

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Imaginary Diving Technologies The history of scuba diving is a story of the continuously evolving relationship between technology, humans, and the underwater environment. The technology used in scuba diving allows us to trace its history, determines its present, and shapes its future. By definition, the body of the diver is a technobody. The embodied experience of the relationship with aquatic life and its environment that arises from this type of diving is closely intertwined with technological applications that are anchored in natural functions, such as breathing, movement, vision, etc. Recreational diving is associated with a series of experiences that are both based on and actively contribute to the formation of enjoyment in underwater exploration, which is perceived as a techno-experience. A significant portion of the posted photos on social media, through which members of globalized diving communities express themselves, nowadays do not focus on the underwater realm as an object of aesthetic enjoyment, but rather on people before, after, or during the dive. Diving equipment appears in these photos as an integral part of the represented social activity, symbolizing it. The identity of the diver is intertwined with their diving gear, which is displayed alongside the smiling faces of the underwater explorers: partially donned wetsuits on land or aboard a vessel, neatly arranged or connected tanks with the BCD and regulator, the mask hanging around the neck or held in hand… In these photos, all those elements that are interconnected with the underwater experience are present, serving as protagonists in the representation of underwater excursions alongside the human actors. Therefore, returning to the approach of historical ethnography, understanding these techno-experiences entails comprehending the historical evolution of the configurations of things and bodies that have emerged from relevant technological applications, namely diving equipment. These configurations function as historical forms of diving assemblages (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987, 2009) that act as active and constantly reshaping dispositifs (Foucault, 1994) The dynamic process of these diving entanglements is a result of the rapid advancement of technological equipment within a relatively short period of time. In approximately eight years, concurrent with rapid social changes that have led to the transformation of the nature of leisure and free time, diving entanglements have emerged as corresponding affective regimes and emotional settings that refer to the relationship between humans and the underwater environment.

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This coupling of scientific applications, psychosomatic functions, and environmental engagement represents the realization of a part of the Western technological imaginary that emerged as a coherent utopia as early as the nineteenth century. The Romanticism of the nineteenth century, as well as the neo-romanticism associated with the outdoor sports activities of late capitalist modernity, constitutes the other side of these emerging technological imaginaries. The awareness of the extent of science’s intervention in everyday life activates enthusiasm for progress, accompanied by the conquest and control of nature, but also sadness over the loss of its naturalness and its alienation due to human intervention.

Realizing Utopias and Rising Dystopias One of the most characteristic examples in the history of the Western technological imaginary is the multifaceted work of Jules Verne. Many of Verne’s novels depict the social desires of the nineteenth century, where adventure, discovery, and advanced technology expand human horizons, leading to a rapid change in the relationship between humans and their environment. His novels, always well documented, are generally set in the second half of the nineteenth century (Evans, 1999), taking into account the scientific knowledge and technological advancements of the time. His work follows the star of education, tracing through the actions of his heroes the confidence in progress and knowledge, connecting them with broader social stakes such as the relationship between humans and nature. Verne was adept at predicting the dominance of a money-driven alienated world, alongside describing present and future technological innovations. The marvelous new world encompasses fundamental stakes for the relationship between humans and nature, where social developments may have alienating consequences. The marvelous technological new world does not appear perfect (Braga, 2005). Especially concerning the “conquest” of the depths, an excellent example is Jules Verne’s novel Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas (1870). It describes with remarkable accuracy not only how an electrically powered submarine operates but also what a self-contained diving apparatus could look like, such as the one that actually appeared in the second half of the twentieth century, along with complementary equipment like the spear gun and diving suit. The novel marks an important moment in the representation of the long history of efforts to construct effective underwater breathing devices, based on the forging of the will to

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“discover” and “conquer” the depths of the oceans. While it incorporates the achievements of its time into its literary narrative, the interesting aspect is that it integrates them into a comprehensive perspective that would later dominate in terms of the relationship between humans, technology, and the environment, in this case, underwater life. Like most of his works, this novel was not a prophecy regarding the technology it portrays but rather a utilization of the already existing technology and processing it through Verne’s imaginative creativity. The submarine referred to in the novel had already been constructed; in fact, Robert Fulton’s submarine was named Nautilus. Diving suits resembling those worn by the crew of the Nautilus had already been developed before 1840 and were being used in many underwater operations (Miller & Evans, 1997). The main characters of this novel reflect the concerns that have plagued the relationship with the depths up to our present day, either schematically or as caricatures: Captain Nemo, the reclusive inventor of marvelous underwater technological applications; the erudite Aronnax, a professor at the Paris Museum of Natural History and sensitized to the protection of nature due to his field of study; his faithful companion Conseil, a complex character representing academic knowledge; and Ned Land, the experienced fisherman who has a better intuition for the practical dangers and risks of underwater exploration than anyone else. In their conversations, filled with intensity, admiration, and suspense, a masterful ambivalence is formed regarding technological progress, admiration for nature, and melancholy for the human condition on dry land. Captain Nemo, perhaps the most mysterious and subversive hero of Verne, leads Professor Aronnax and his company on an adventure spanning the lengths and breadths of the planet, into hidden underwater worlds. His name alludes to Homer’s “Odyssey”: “Nemo” in Latin means “no one.” It is the Roman equivalent of the Greek word “Οὖτις,” which appears in Homer’s Odyssey when Odysseus introduces himself as “ Οὖτις “ to deceive a monstrous Cyclops. In the Latin translation of the Odyssey, this pseudonym is rendered as “Nemo,” which is also translated as “No man” or “No one” in English. Like Odysseus, the enigmatic Captain Nemo wanders the seas for years. Between the symbol of ecologically sensitive academic knowledge and the resourceful technological Odysseus (Captain Nemo), there stands Ned Land, representing nautical traditions, a whaler, and a practical judge of the science that allows the paradoxical crew to visit the hidden Atlantises and marvel at concealed underwater paradises.

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Technoscience enables the crew of the Nautilus to explore the depths, where, from their encounter with the hidden nature whose beauty is revealed resplendent, arises a reflection on the future of mankind. It is a contemplation with political implications when, for example, Captain Nemo supplies precious materials from the sea to Cretan revolutionaries, deemed valuable by the “land-dwellers,” or when he doubts the quality of the social organization in developed nations worldwide, possibly borrowing elements from revolutionary heroes of his time (Kallivretakis, 2005). However, it is also accompanied by ecological concerns, as he refers to sensitive underwater habitats during a time when industrial whaling was thriving, pushing certain species to the brink of extinction, and the oceans were seen as a source of limitless wealth. However, in this text, as well as in similar works by the same author, we already find more than just melancholy over human violence against the environment, but rather the first glimpses of a “return” to nature, in our case, the depths of the sea. It is a desire that the culture of leisure will later cultivate and transform into a marketable product, as a partial dimension of a productive-creative relationship with oneself, primarily among the middle classes of the West and any population that adopts part of their culture worldwide. Through the guided tour of areas that only a select few can know of, let alone have visited and seen with their own eyes, Captain Nemo captivates Professor Aronnax and accompanies the guests-prisoners of the Nautilus into the mysterious depths, reveling in their astonishment at the calculated display of the “beauty of the deep.” The guests are compelled to acknowledge the marvel of underwater natural beauty, similar to when they behold the gleam of light on the icebergs of Antarctica, where the resourceful Captain Nemo has led them: The luminous ceiling had been extinguished, but the salon was still resplendent wit light. It was the powerful reflection from the glass partition sent violently back to the sheets of the lantern. I cannot describe the effect of the voltaic rays upon the great blocks so capriciously cut’ upon every angle, every ridge, every facet was thrown a different light, according to the nature of the veins running through the ice’ a dazzling mine of gems, particularly of sapphires, their blue rays crossing with the green of the emerald. Here and there were opal shades of wonderful softness, running through bright spots like diamonds of fire, the brilliancy of which the eye could not bear.

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The power of lantern seemed increased a hundredfold, like a lamp through the lenticular plates of a first-class lighthouse. —“How beautiful!” cried Conseil. —“Yes,” I said, “it is a wonderful sight. Is it not, Ned?” —“Yes, confound it! Yes,” answered Ned Land, “it is superb! I am mad at being obliged to admit it. No one has ever seen anything like it; but the sight may cost us dear. (Vernes, 2022[1887]: 213)

In Jules Verne’s novels, the Earth, its interior, and its remote depths are potentially accessible places. The Earth is round and potentially accessible through the utilization of advanced technological applications. The phrase “20,000 leagues” in the title refers to distance, not depth. One league was 6080 yards or approximately three nautical miles, and despite their differences, they were primarily a unit of measurement referring to distance. The title refers to the distance the Nautilus could travel underwater across the seas, in the plural, traversing the entire world, representing the Earth as something finite. In this representation of the natural world, the depths are something remarkable and naturally beautiful for these individuals. It is worth seeing, and its observation is a source of enjoyment. However, it is not without risks. The depths of the oceans are accessible to bold explorers equipped with appropriate scientific means, allowing them to transcend the horizons of the everyday people and gain access to the rich and productive natural resources. The explorers can reach places that the average person cannot. However, even though our scientific applications allow us such a journey, as through the Nautilus to the icebergs of Antarctica, it is not without danger, as Ned Land warns: “the sight may cost us dear…” Natural laws continue to apply alongside human laws, and their violation entails risks, sometimes even fatal ones. Humans can surpass natural obstacles and dangers from lurking monsters, and then, by controlling the greed of exploitation and the narcissism nestling in their souls, they can enjoy both the wondrous places and the adventure itself that leads them to these destinations. A particular dangerous incident, the entrapment of the Nautilus beneath an iceberg due to ice melting, was not fatal. However, it highlighted this common pursuit in recreational diving, the escape to unfamiliar worlds with safety. Scientific applications allow for a controlled indulgence in unfamiliar places, a temporary escape from the confined world governed by the laws of human biology, aiming at the pleasure of

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underwater exploration. But this should be done thoughtfully and in moderation. In late modernity, the myth of Odysseus, the myth of the hero who dares to wander and listen to the dangerously seductive song of the Sirens, protected by voluntary binding to the mast of his ship, will cease to concern only a few. The pleasurable wandering will become a widespread expectation, an achievable goal for many. Technoscientific applications and safety measures in scuba diving will become the ropes of reason that protect divers, enabling them to admire the “little Atlantises,” the depths of the oceans, to hear the seductive song of the sirens echoing in the exotic depths of famous diving destinations. The measured hearing of the magical song of exotic places that one deserves to see and experience with all their senses now concerns anyone who possesses the minimal economic and physical abilities to dive. Recreational divers of our time, like small Odysseuses, individuals of their era, adopt a perspective of measured enjoyment as a constituent of bourgeois civilization (Horkheimer & Adorno, 1972), being tied to the ropes of their scientifically grounded equipment, relishing the radiance of light in coral reefs, the white sand of tropical depths, the breathtaking cliffs of canyons.

Applied Technoscience: Helmets, Sponge Fishing and Diving Accidents in the Dodecanese During the mid-nineteenth century, in the midst of the Industrial Revolution, engineers intensified their efforts to construct integrated and commercially viable technical applications that would enable underwater breathing. The predecessor to modern scuba diving gear emerged in the form of diving helmets. Diving helmets have a fascinating and significant history, representing indispensable equipment utilized for both underwater exploration and occupational purposes. The origins of diving helmets can be traced back to ancient times when Greek divers employed rudimentary air supply systems, utilizing hollow reeds to respire while submerged. However, it was not until the sixteenth century that the first authentic diving helmets came into existence. In 1535, an Italian engineer named Guglielmo de Lorena conceptualized a diving bell, which provided divers with the means to explore the depths. This bell-shaped apparatus consisted of hermetically sealed compartments connected to a surface-based air supply line, enabling divers to

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submerge and resurface without encountering water ingress. Although not explicitly categorized as helmets, these early diving bell designs laid the foundation for subsequent innovations in underwater breathing apparatus (Parker, 1997). The true diving helmet as we know it today began to take shape in the nineteenth century. In 1823, brothers Charles and John Deane, inventors from England, patented a diving helmet design that featured a copper helmet with a sealed glass viewing port and a supply of air pumped from the surface. Their helmet also included a valve system for releasing excess air and maintaining pressure. This invention was a significant advancement in diving technology, allowing for deeper and longer dives. In 1837, the renowned engineer Augustus Siebe introduced the closed diving dress, which featured a copper helmet attached to a waterproof canvas suit. Siebe’s diving dress had a better sealing mechanism, making it more secure and efficient than previous designs. It quickly gained popularity and became the standard diving equipment used by professional divers (Olympitou, 2014: 108–111). Multiple types of diving helmets were developed and gradually utilized in economic, professional, and fishing fields, such as sponge fishing in the Dodecanese region (Biliri, 1995; Gerakis, 2020; Olympitou, 2014; Xeilas, 2000). The introduction of the diving helmet, later followed by the Fernez system (named after the French engineer Maurice Fernez, who designed it), in sponge fishing in the Dodecanese, overturned the entire social organization of the sponge diving communities and transformed the activity into an intensely professional one, integrated into a global circuit of sponge trade. Engagement in sponge fishing predates the utilization of diving helmets in the Dodecanese and typically occurs onboard traditional boats, commonly referred to as “kaiki” (see Photo 3.1). It already had a long history, at least since the eighteenth century (Terzi, 2020: 17), particularly in Kalymnos and Symi, favored by the climatic conditions of the surrounding marine area. Apprenticeship in diving began at an early age and was exclusively reserved for men. For example, the account of the traveler L. Ross, who visited Kalymnos in 1841, witnessed a delightful spectacle upon reaching the island on a morning in August: Half a dozen small, sun-kissed boys, who were lying naked on the beach, would jump into the sea—because here we were on the famous island of divers—and swim around the cutter, diving with leaps, even though we had

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Photo 3.1  Two Kalymnian Sponge fishing boats. Sources: Maritime Museum of Kalymnos anchored four yard deep, like ducks, deep into the seabed. They brought up sand and small pebbles, which they would throw at each other… [When they reach adulthood], the fishermen can dive into the depths of the sea up to 35 or even 40 yards fathoms and stay at the bottom for 2 to 4 minutes. (Prombonas, 2020: 102)

The earlier form of sponge diving in the Dodecanese, prior to the appearance of the diving helmet, is a type of free diving based on the skandalopetra (bellstone). Without the pressurized risks of the diving helmet or other similar systems, it involves a type of variable-weight diving that utilizes a stone attached to a rope. The diver descends with the help of a stone that facilitates sponge divers to reach the necessary depth (see Photo 3.2). The stone is tied to a rope, with another person on a boat holding the other end. The companion of the diver observes him from the boat and pulls him up along with the stone and the underwater loot. Referring to an earlier testimony, Terzi (2020: 11) describes this diving practice:

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Photo 3.2  Painting representing sponge fishing in Kalymnos, by Ioannis Xeilas. Source: Maritime Museum of Kalymnos

A stone slab tied with a rope, ranging from 50 to 60 yards in length [one yards is approximately 6 feet]. It was thrown from the boat, and immediately after taking a deep breath, the fisherman would dive, quickly reaching the bottom. The stone, weighing between 12 and 15 kilograms (some say between 14 and 18), also served as a reference for the fisherman who gathered the largest quantity of sponges nearby, placing them in a

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small net hung around his neck to shake the rope and be pulled to the surface by his companions. The most skilled divers could reach depths of up to forty yards, hence in Greece they were called ‘sarantarides’, although it is said that many managed to reach even greater depths. Sponge fishing usually started in June and ended in August, and when weather conditions permitted, it could extend to the early days of September, despite the fact that the activity was regulated by special religious provisions that prohibited certain days. Another indicative and documented famous diving with skandalopetra is that of Georgios Chatzis of Stathis, also known as Chatzistathis. On July 14, 1913, he dived with a 14-kilogram skandalopetra off the coast of Karpathos, a depth of 83 meters, in order to recover the lost anchor of the Italian battleship “Reggina Margherita.” The ship’s doctor provides detailed information about the incident as well as the physiology of Chatzistathis, a medium-built man from the region with many ear problems due to numerous dives. When the Italians invited him to honor him for his exceptional assistance, he requested, instead of prizes and honorary medals, to be granted a license for fishing with dynamite (a common method of fishing at the time, although illegal), which, according to sources, he achieved. Already in 1854, were recorded 200 sponge diving vessels there, and in 1858, there were 2000 sponge divers in Kalymnos, out of a total of 4600 in the broader island region (Olympitou, 2014: 102). The first helmet was introduced in the sponge diving of the Dodecanese in 1866 and continues to be used along with the Fernez system introduced in 1920. From 1970 to 1975, when the last sponge diving vessel departed from the port of Kalymnos, the narghile system dominated (Olympitou, 2014: 24). The cessation of the practice followed a declining trend throughout the post-World War II period (Olympitou, 2014: 69–70, 89). The introduction of diving helmets and the Fernez system, along with the integration of sponge diving into an increasingly globalized commercial circuit, led to the development of larger-scale fishing practices that were more commercialized. Diving for sponges was gradually organized into large groups, based on clusters of vessels, with crews consisting exclusively of men who would migrate periodically to the distant shores of Africa or other thriving sponge regions in the Mediterranean Sea (Olympitou, 2014: 24).

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The sponge diver is a member of a productive group, and diving is a fishing practice that largely supports the survival of islands such as Kalymnos, the epicenter of sponge diving. Sponge divers are interconnected with both the local community on land and the rest of the crew, of which they are distinct members with recognized roles. They often enter into binding employment contracts, sometimes accompanied by loans from the leader (captain or owner). They are also connected through the technology as the diver and their equipment are entirely dependent on the weight and supply of air from the surface, making them an integral part of a complex social mechanism (Russel, 1968, 1976). The diver is not simply connected to the diving apparatus; their body is an integral part of the complex for as long as they are in the water. Diving of this nature involves a significant bodily interaction, a subaquatic hyperbaric interface, and a machine that leads to the saturation of the body (see relevant collective volume), through the coupling of lungs, respiratory equipment, and physical labor. In particular, the diver with a diving helmet was called a “michanikos” (mechanic) in the dialect of the sponge divers of Kalymnos and the wider Dodecanese, and the diving helmet was referred to as the “michani” (machine). Gradually, the competition between the physical ability and skill of naked diving versus mechanical support would soon lean in favor of the diving advanced apparatus, multiplying the productive capacity and the quantity of the sponge catch. Regardless of the type of diving helmet and the method of mechanical support from the accompanying vessel, the diver can remain submerged for longer periods at greater depths. Without a clear understanding of the saturation process, the widespread use of various types of diving apparatus during and after the interwar period, resulted in numerous cases of “diver’s disease,” paralysis, and death. According to the dialect of the sponge divers, this was referred to as the “machine hit,” which became increasingly common as the use of diving helmets as well as the Fernez apparatus, expanded. As early as the nineteenth century, the sponge diving issue was recognized, referring to both the increasing cases of decompression sickness due to the expansion of diving with helmets and the social conflicts and wounds caused by all these “machine hits.” Often, anger was directed toward the machines, which the affected divers and their families blamed as the cause of deaths and paralysis (Kalafatas, 2003: 32–32). Although we do not have precise data, the number of victims seems to be significant, resulting from both

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the ignorance of decompression rules and the need for economic survival of the divers and their families. As mentioned by Olympitou (2014), as early as the late nineteenth century, the Greek medical community was aware of the dangers associated with the use of diving helmets. Professor of Neurology at the University of Athens, K. Catsaras, who originated from Symi, an island in the Dodecanese with a strong sponge diving tradition, highlighted the risks, studying 62 cases of patients in Symi, describing the various forms of the disease, and proposing certain measures for divers to avoid it. Among these measures, he mentioned limiting the time spent at the seabed, depending on the depth, and slow, gradual ascent (Catsaras, 1888, 1889). Other references from the late nineteenth to early twentieth century mention a “special disease,” the “paralysis of divers,” leading the Ministry of Maritime Affairs of the Greek state to issue clear guidelines to those practicing helmet diving with specific rules regarding working hours, their diet, and the maximum depth not to exceed 42 meters, with a maximum duration of ten minutes and encouraging rhythmic ascent to the surface (Olympitou, 2014: 16; Zotos, 1904). In the post-war years, the accident rate for Kalymnian divers ranged from 4% to 7% annually (Olympitou, 2014: 24). However, even then, the records were incomplete for several reasons. The risks of prolonged dives at great depths, paralysis, and sudden deaths were a result of ignorance or concealment of decompression rules, but they were imposed by necessity as it was primarily an economic livelihood activity. Often, the causes were not ignorance but the involvement of divers in an economic activity that compelled them to work hard due to debts, surpassing depth and time limits (Kalafatas, 2003: 9–31). The number of diving helmets per vessel was limited, so the mechanical diver had to ascend quickly to the surface to make way for the next diver. Recognizing the risks, even in the 1970s, divers demanded their entire payment in advance, arguing that they might not return alive from the journey (Olympitou, 2014: 25). Furthermore, even after the installation of the decompression chamber at the hospital in Kalymnos in 1970, several sick divers did not disclose to medical personnel the actual depth they had descended, the duration of their stay, and the duration of ascent to ensure effective gradual decompression. The reason, by common agreement, was the potential consequences they would face from shipowners and port authorities and the concern that they would be excluded from the professional circle (Biliri, 1995; Gerakis, 2020; Olympitou, 2014; Xeilas, 2000).

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“Poor divers, slaves of the sea. What you endured...” is stated by Gerakis (2020: 76), referring to the 1960s. An activity that, whenever the opportunity arose, disregarded fishing limits: “The mechanic, that is, the diver with the diving suit, would wreak havoc on the sponges as he descended to the seabed. He had the comfort and time to sit at the bottom, especially in shallow waters, for hours on end. The diver [in certain very shallow waters] would descend in the morning and resurface at noon, then the second diver would descend and resurface in the evening” (Gerakis, 2020: 32). In the world of sponge divers, the professional divers who wore the “dress of the machine” were the ones who dived deeper, disregarding the possibility of the “machine hit” (Olympitou, 2014: 365). An emblematic figure for the termination of helmet diving was the Lithuanian professor of ancient languages, Karl Vasilievich Flegel (1850–1928), who visited Kalymnos in 1892. Observing the high number of casualties resulting from the use of diving apparatus, he tried to raise awareness among the governments of Mediterranean countries to stop their use. He mapped the sponge diving activity of the Dodecanese islands during the transition from the nineteenth to the twentieth century (Flegel, 1997), especially in Kalymnos (Flegel, 1895, 1896), referring to the sponge diving issue and the multiple accidents caused by the widespread use of diving helmets. He contributed to the establishment of the International Society for the Protection of Sponges in 1910, with its headquarters in Chania, Crete. Some of the temporary results of his actions include the occasional prohibition of diving helmet use, for example, in 1903, which disrupted the sponge diving activity and the economic network associated with it (Gerakis, 2020: 83). He passed away in 1928, defending with passion the health of the divers, whose homeland he hailed from. The literary narrative devotes several pages to the achievements and sufferings of sponge divers, their daily life, and the risk of paralysis or death (Olympitou, 2014: 374–386). In folk culture, the sea is a mysterious space, a dwelling place for demonic beings and monsters, while the familiarity of many island populations with the aquatic element was limited. The divers themselves have recorded in oral testimonies the intense emotions they experienced during dives in the dark depths, often invoking real dangers such as sharks or imaginary shadows and threatening presences in the fishing grounds of sponges (Olympitou, 2014: 319–324). These divers would artistically express, through the form of song and folk poetry, the hardships brought by the new technology, especially the

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diving helmet. A characteristic example is the poem Xeimerinos Oneiros (“Winter Dream”) written by Metrophanis Kalafatas (Kalafatas, 1999), which “recounts the plight of sponge divers confronted with this new technology” (Kalafatas, 2003). This poem becomes a means of exploring the family history by his second-generation immigrant grandson, Michael Kalafatas, in his book titled The Bellstone: The Greek Sponge Divers of the Aegean (Kalafatas, 2003), where an English translation of this epic poem dedicated to the efforts to abolish diving helmets and the daily work of sponge divers can be found (Kalafatas, 2003: 227–252). The international networks that developed as a result of sponge diving facilitated migration flows, particularly for the people of Kalymnos, who established communities in contemporary centers such as Odessa and St. Petersburg or shared their diving knowledge. By the end of the twentieth century, over 800 sponge divers had emigrated to Tarpon Springs in the USA, marking the most significant diving migration in recent times in the Greek sphere (Olympitou, 2014: 301–306; Russel, 1965), after the end of World War II, and also to Darwin, Australia. Michael Kalafatas’ case seems to be one of those examples. Later on, these sponge diving experiences, resulting from advanced technological applications, partly physical, social-economic, and engineering, will fuel inspiration for the creation of songs and dances that will become part of the folk culture as mnemonic rituals. Hybrids of physical experiences and emotions, functioning machines integrated into practical purposes, and the result of technological applications, in short, combinations of things and human activities, nature and culture, the Kalymnian choreographies related to the divers’ disease intermingle the traditional territories of entities, as an executive reflection and performances on these ongoing interactions. The aquatic environment itself encompasses multiple hybrids, the result of intermixing, including non-physical “things” such as pollution of the seas, fish farming practices, and the pathology of nitrogen narcosis, the “methi tou vithou” (“drunkenness of the depths in everyday language), in order to understand the contemporary forms of shaping an increasingly uncertain (Ehremberg, 1995) and fluid (Bauman, 2000) subjectivity. The growing use of advanced technology serves as a multiplier of hybrid formations (Latour, 1991a, 1991b, 1993). The “Dance of the Mechanic” encapsulates and symbolizes this convergence of humans as living beings and things as human artifacts (Hodder, 2012), resulting in the creation of more and more cultural hybrids. A characteristic example of invented tradition (Hobsbawm & Ranger, 1983)

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has its origin in the inspiration of a Kalymnian graduate from the Physical Education Gymnastics Academy. It first appeared in 1952, based on the idea of how the “piasmenoi” (caught) ones, namely those afflicted by the divers’ disease, would dance if they wanted to: the “caught mechanic” enters the exclusively male dance circle, to which, however, he cannot fully belong. He drags his feet, holding a cane, follows the rhythm on his own. In the middle of the circle, co-dancers support him when he stumbles and is at risk of falling. “This dance is an imitation of the “caught mechanic”, the diver who dives with a diving helmet and has been affected by the disease. This semi-paralyzed sponge diver drags the dance with his cane, while his legs tremble as he tries to move. He falls and gets up multiple times. But in the end, he recovers, throws away the cane, and dances vigorously like the rest” (Olympitou, 2014: 368). After 1970, the decline of sponge diving began. Access to African shores became limited as they were nationalized, and artificial sponges replaced natural sponges in almost all applications. Furthermore, in 1986, a serious disease affecting sponges devastated the Mediterranean sponge fields. Within the field of technological applications, notable advancements in diving helmet technology were witnessed in the twentieth century. The introduction of lightweight materials such as aluminum and fiberglass reduced the weight of helmets, thereby enhancing diver mobility. However, what is particularly interesting, in relation to the questions raised in this book, is that long before the decline of sponge diving, a scuba recreational diving culture had emerged in Greece, both institutionally and in terms of the number of participants involved. This gave rise to two parallel processes: the decline of professional sponge diving and the development of a new field of recreational diving. This raises the question of the relationship between these two distinct practices, their points of convergence, and through which processes scuba divers came to encounter sponge divers, diving stones, and diving helmets.

Traditional Diving Communities Greek sponge diving is a fundamental traditional diving practice embedded in a livelihood framework, and its memories are still alive as some of the people who practiced it are still alive today. Thus, Greek sponge diving falls within the long line of traditional diving practices that have developed in various parts of the world. These practices are aided by elementary technical means such as stones acting as stable weights, ropes, rudimentary

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glass constructions for observing the seabed, and rarely protective garments for divers against the cold and sharp rocks. They primarily rely on highly developed physical abilities for diving and fishing. Throughout history, certain communities have developed deep connections with the ocean and have cultivated unique traditional diving practices. These communities, often living in coastal regions, rely on diving skills to sustain their livelihoods, gather resources, and preserve cultural heritage. One such community is the Ama divers of Japan, whose tradition dates back over 2000 years. These female divers specialize in free diving without the use of breathing apparatus, diving deep into the waters to harvest seafood, particularly abalone, pearls, and seaweed. The Ama’s knowledge of the sea, their diving techniques, and their cultural practices have been passed down through generations, making them a cherished symbol of Japanese maritime heritage (Kalafatas, 2003; Martinez, 2004). Another female diving community exists in the coastal regions of Jeju Island, South Korea. Known as the Haenyeo divers, they have been an integral part of the local culture for centuries. These women dive into the frigid waters without scuba equipment to gather seafood, including abalone, sea urchins, and octopuses. The Haenyeo have honed their diving skills and developed unique breath-hold techniques that allow them to sustain long dives, often lasting several minutes. Their role in Jeju’s cultural heritage has been recognized by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity (Kim & Kim, 2018; Hong et al., 1991). These examples demonstrate the profound connection between certain communities and the ocean, showcasing their rich diving traditions, specialized knowledge, and physical prowess in navigating the underwater realm for sustenance and cultural preservation. Such an example is Badjao or Bajau, a nomadic ethnic group residing in the coastal regions of Southeast Asia, including the Philippines, Malaysia, and Indonesia. They possess a profound affinity with the sea and have developed exceptional diving skills from a young age. Traditionally, the Badjao practice breath-­ hold diving, known as “panubig,” to hunt fish, gather sea cucumbers, and search for valuable resources (Bellina et al., 2021). Their distinctive diving techniques and intricate knowledge of marine environments are integral to their way of life and have led to a series of biological adaptations among skilled divers (Arlo Nimmo, 2008). Similar communities with a strong relationship with water have emerged in the archipelagos of Asia. For instance, the Sama-Bajau communities in

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the Philippines, Malaysia, and Indonesia (Rodney, 2010; Rodney et  al., 2011), the Moken (Salon) in Thailand and Myanmar (Bernatzik, 2005), and the Dayak in Borneo, Indonesia, and Malaysia (Sandin, 1967) have developed symbiotic relationships with water worlds. Likewise, other communities such as the Maleku in Costa Rica, the Huni Kuin (Kaxinawá) in Brazil and Peru, and the Amauti of the Inuit in Arctic regions have nurtured a biopotential connection with watery realms. Analogous cultures have flourished in the past in numerous coastal, lacustrine, or riverine environments. Examples include the Chumash in California, United States (Arnold, 1995), and the Haida in the Pacific Northwest regions spanning modern-day Canada and the United States. Each of these communities has developed unique diving techniques, cultural practices, and profound connections with the ocean, serving as a testament to the intricate relationship between humans and nature and emphasizing the importance of preserving cultural heritage for future generations. These practices have coexisted with modern recreational diving for a significant period, in some cases up to the present day. When referring to traditional forms of diving, it is important not to consider them as static or internally homogeneous. Particularly due to constant changes in their technological background, an ongoing “functional adaptation” takes place (Gross, 1992). We have seen in the case of sponge diving in the Dodecanese the extent to which the diving practice has changed over the course of two centuries, utilizing available technological advancements within an increasingly globalized framework of economic activities. However, we can argue that the common denominator among these practices, which distinguishes them from scuba recreational diving, is primarily their collective nature and their association with livelihood and economic activities. Any recreational aspect emerges as a secondary result of engaging in an embodied practice that is positively evaluated and bestows symbolic prestige upon the men and women who dive. However, diving itself is rarely pursued solely for recreational purposes, except in occasional instances. The sea, along with the waters of lakes and rivers, is the immediate environment, the familiar surroundings, rather than a tourist destination in the broader sense. Diving skills are based on knowledge that is transmitted from generation to generation without the mediation of formal educational processes, as is the case in modern recreational diving. Regarding this aspect, the fundamental innovation of scuba diving lies, on the one hand, in the availability of technology and, on the other hand,

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in its integration into the world of sports and the globalized culture of recreation. Economic objectives continue to play a crucial role in diving practices, but no longer within the context of fishing. The economic dimension concerns the management of the number of individuals desiring to dive, achieved through the development of formal educational programs, the commodification of diving-related technological applications, and the establishment of institutions that facilitate accessibility to popular diving destinations at local, regional, national, and global levels. The technology on which scuba diving is based, with its standardized equipment and safety protocols, has created new possibilities for experiencing the underwater realm while aligning with the demands of a recreational market.

Parallel Submarine Worlds As diving technology progressed, the development of self-contained underwater breathing apparatus (SCUBA) systems in the mid-twentieth century led to a decline in the use of diving helmets. SCUBA gear allowed divers to carry their air supply on their backs, granting them greater freedom and flexibility underwater. Although diving helmets remain in use today for specific applications, such as commercial diving, underwater welding, and salvage operations, where surface-supplied diving is necessary, the world of recreational diving primarily relies on SCUBA-­type gear. Scuba diving technology is based on individual control of the equipment and personalized dive planning. Even the modern regulations regarding buddy diving are part of an individual ethical concern for safety rather than a collective endeavor. The technology itself is intertwined with the objectives of diving, as social perceptions of the underwater realm and diving interact with scientific knowledge. The technological equipment of scuba diving aligns with self-control, the value of physical integrity, calculated risk, and the Odysseus who ties himself to the mast of knowledge in order to achieve safety in the journey of underwater enjoyment and exploration in the world of sirens, the magical depths. The emphasis on individual responsibility marks a decisive shift, far removed from the traditional values of sponge divers, the workers of the depths, who daringly defy safety advice in order to achieve economic survival and the prestige of a worthy status of man-diver. The development of recreational diving does not represent a continuation of traditional diving practices; rather, it constitutes a distinct dispositif. The evolution of diving technology has followed a unified trajectory in

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Table 3.1  Number of boats, divers, and crew numbers by type of operation and sources of funds, 1959–1964. Source: Russel, 1968: 56 Year

Type of Operation

1959

Skafandra Fernez Nude Skafandra Fernez Nude – Skafandra Fernez Nude Skafandra Fernez Nude Narghile Skafandra Fernez Nude Narghile Scuba

1960

1961 1962

1963

1964

No. of Divers

No. in Crew

No. of Boats

271  68  92 208  70  51 – 187  46  56 185  61  36  19 167  53  58  13  5

268  68  17 183  61  11 – 185  59  12 180  77  14  17 176  69  21  19  5

28  8 17 20  8  2 – 19  6 12 22  8  9  6 23  8 12  8  1

the Western world and in societies organically integrated into the globalized system, sometimes with small steps and other times with leaps. One such leap is the invention of the self-contained underwater breathing apparatus (SCUBA), which inaugurates a new era, a novel complex of things and humans, a new entanglement (Hodder, 2012) in the field of diving. This partial, albeit apparent, discontinuity is evident in how the diving tradition of sponge diving was understood by the protagonists of scuba diving in Greece in the 1960s and beyond. As shown in Tables 3.1 and 3.2, there is still a strong engagement with sponge diving in the Dodecanese region in the 1960s. During this period, the world of recreational diving in Greece also develops, generally following global trends, with the institutional organization and promotion of diving activities as a sport. The detailed exploration of the development of recreational diving in the country will be pursued in subsequent chapters. At this point, it is worth noting that the gradual evolution of recreational diving in Greece does not seem to directly intersect with the diving

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Table 3.2  Causality Rates for Kalymnian Divers. Source: Russel, 1968: 73 Year

Divers

Boats

Avg. Divers per Boat

Paralyses

Deaths

Casualty Rate

1950 1951 1952 1953 1954 1955 1956 1957 1958 1959 1960 1961 1962 1963 1964 1965 1966

513 429 409 305 386 409 342 386 384 351 279 247 240 257 235 197 94

56 48 42 34 41 44 41 44 43 36 29 28 25 39 36 27 15

9.16 8.94 9.74 8.97 9.41 9.30 8.35 8.77 8.93 9.75 9.62 8.82 9.60 6.60 6.53 7.30 6.27

15 12 12 7 9 10 10 11 12 8 11 7 7 7 1 9 0

0 3 8 1 2 2 0 6 2 0 1 1 1 3 8 6 0

2.92 3.50 4.89 2.62 2.85 2.93 2.92 4.40 3.65 2.28 4.30 3.24 3.33 3.89 3.83 7.61 0.00

tradition of sponge diving, neither in terms of practice nor in terms of public discourse. As mentioned earlier, the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities (EOUDA) was founded in 1952 and is a founding member of CMAS. EOUDA published its official magazine, Orion, which circulated from 1962 to 1971. Given the stated goals of promoting underwater activities, one would expect extensive references to the local diving tradition. However, upon perusing the issues of Orion, one would find that there is almost no mention of the sponge diving tradition. Instead, there are numerous references to various underwater scientific research conducted worldwide, information about diving innovations, studies on underwater physiology, and explorations of the marvelous new world of the depths. There are also many references to the athletic achievements of individuals, predominantly men but also some women, in related sports competitions such as spearfishing or depth competitions. However, the “feats” of the sponge divers are absent. Only in one article, dedicated to diver’s disease, is there an extensive reference (Athanasainas, 1967: 14–15). In a subsection titled “problems of the dive disease in Greece,” it is mentioned that there are no significant issues except among the sponge divers of Kalymnos. The author attributes

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this exception, the high rates of diver’s disease among the sponge divers, to two main reasons: (a) psychological and (b) economic. The psychological reasons refer to the fact that sponge divers are members of a closed social circle characterized by a reluctance to acquire knowledge and adhere to decompression rules, relying on the traditional form of diving (“We know these things from our grandfathers, and it is our own job”). The economic reasons pertain to the incompatibility of decompression rules and economic efficiency in sponge diving: if the rules are followed and diving times are limited, the amount of sponges collected would be minimal. The disdainful tone toward the traditional diving practice in the article (the author also criticizes the sponge divers for systematically violating regulations established for their protection) indicates the existence of two different worlds. For a period of approximately fifteen years, these two diving worlds coexist without intersecting except in a few rare cases (e.g., in Table 3.1, we will see that scuba diving was integrated into sponge diving practice in 1964, albeit on a regional level with a single crew of five divers). The magazine Ypovrychios Kosmos (Underwater World, 1971–2006) succeeded the magazine Orion in the public sphere of the Greek diving community. Within its pages, focused on leisure diving activities (with an emphasis on scuba, free diving and spearfishing), occasional references to sponge divers will appear. In the news section of its 12th issue in 1972, there is a report titled “Death of a Sponge Diver”: The life of the Kalymnians is very harsh. Every year, four or five of them will die during the summer. Five or ten will return to Kalymnos unable to work again due to decompression sickness. The latest victim was P.R., who was admitted to a hospital in Piraeus due to decompression sickness and died on February 23, 1972. However, life goes on, and the Kalymnians will continue to dive because they know they must continue (p. 5).

However, the references throughout the 1970s will initially be overwhelmingly dismissive, but with a different tone and within the context of a new interpretation. During the gradual decline of sponge diving in the early 1970s, leading to its definitive cessation by the mid-1970s, the Greek state granted Kalymnian divers the right to legally spearfish without using breathing apparatus, similar to traditional skandalopetra diving. Gradually throughout the 1970s, the magazine Ypovrychios Kosmos portrays an

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ethical panic concerning the practices of the Kalymnian divers, whom amateur spearfishers perceive as destroyers of the seabed by depleting fish populations, according to the publications and rumors that gradually prevail. The phrase “The Kalymnians passed by” represents the depletion of fish in an area and is reproduced in a series of critical articles about Kalymnian divers in this magazine. In the 25th issue of 1973, an indicative article titled “Where are the Kalymnians heading?” refers to a public protest by the Naval Association of Volos, “Argonauts,” which states: The Kalymnian sponge divers systematically and uncontrollably exterminate Greece’s marine wealth […] What’s the point of seminars on marine pollution at the moment we already have a dead sea? (p. 8-9)

This criticism takes on a new form with the emergence of ecological concerns, which are eventually reflected in the pages of Ypovrychios Kosmos. Based on these concerns, sponge diving and the right of Kalymnians to fish are condemned as ecologically irresponsible, and authorities are urged to take responsibility by establishing clear limits and rules. Traditional diving is perceived through the lens of this emerging ecological awareness not only as technologically outdated and dangerous for the divers themselves but also as irresponsible and destructive to marine ecosystems. This perspective can be found in numerous references to traditional fishing practices worldwide, where the technical equipment and social purposes of diving are viewed as disconnected from the realms of recreational diving and the growing ecological sensitivities toward aquatic life. The emergence of recreational scuba diving, rooted in its technological prerequisites, differentiates sponge fishing divers and scuba divers during the period following World War II until the mid-1970s. It separates them and renders their practices almost incompatible. The protagonists of these two kinds of practices regard each other with suspicion and distrust. Sponge fishing divers and scuba divers do not perceive themselves as part of a unified diving tradition. They understand that they belong to two parallel underwater worlds. Greek sponge divers and scuba divers do not dive in the same Mediterranean Sea. They use different types of equipment, dive to different depths, and remain underwater for different durations, with different frequencies and purposes. They have completely different perspectives on the underwater realm and on what they believe they are doing. It is not only the use of diving suits or masks that separates

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them, but also the gaze through which they perceive the underwater world and their own activities. Only in the late 1970s, with the definitive cessation of using diving helmets for fishing purposes, does a discourse about the local diving “tradition” begin to emerge, and for this, we should be proud. The naive and irresponsible destroyers of fishing grounds gradually become the “heroes of the Mediterranean depths,” resilient and fearless fishermen of the abyss. It is the period when diving as a sport gains a history, and competition gives way to the establishment of museums. In these museums, as we will see later, diving helmets and accompanying equipment will be exhibited, transformed from tools into symbols of a unified diving “heritage.” Through this invented tradition, a process of heritization that turns problems and risks into the past, sponge divers, especially those from Kalymnos and the wider Dodecanese, will become part of a past that is considered worthy of preserving its memory. They now represent an element of an alleged unified diving tradition. From the world of recreation, a gaze is born that looks backward.

CHAPTER 4

Diving Technology at the Recreational World

The world in which the vita active spends itself consists of things produced by human activities; but the things that owe their existence exclusively to men nevertheless constantly conditions their human makers. Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition, The University of Chicago Press, 1958, p. 9.

This chapter primarily focuses on examining the intricate relationship between technology and recreational scuba diving. The analysis centers on significant technological advancements that have facilitated underwater respiration and improved the ease of diving. The gradual development of recreational scuba diving is heavily dependent on technological progress. However, the significance of technoscience applications extends beyond mediating human interaction with the aquatic environment. It is more appropriate to consider the interplay between technology and underwater human practices, resulting in historically defined diving assemblages. Within these active entangled, specific underwater aesthetic frameworks emerge, accompanied by emotional extensions and corresponding conceptualizations of nature. Through these complex interconnections of components, constantly in a process of transformation, the depths of the seas are progressively transformed into domains of sport, recreation, tourism activities, and, more recently, ecological awareness.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Tzanakis, Scuba Diving Practices in Greece, Leisure Studies in a Global Era, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-48839-9_4

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Diving Equipment and Recreation Diving In the online advertising videos circulating on the internet, we will find many experienced instructors and diving gear merchants advising newcomers or aspiring divers on the necessary diving equipment. In these videos, the protagonists inform young members of the community—the more experienced ones address the specialized electronic or print media— describing a range of products and brands, advising on value for money purchases, distinguishing between essential and more personal equipment, as well as equipment that can be rented. Particularly for long diving trips, the primary advice is to transport the most personal equipment, which includes the mask, diving suit, regulator, and dive computer. Other equipment categorizations adopt different criteria, such as the distinction between hard and soft equipment or equipment tailored to specific forms of diving, in order to emphasize functionality, complexity, as well as the cost of purchase and maintenance. Experienced divers, usually instructors, will encourage their student-clients to consider their individual needs rationally and choose what suits them among “soft goods” (masks, fins, snorkel sets…), “exposure protection” materials (wetsuits or dry suits, booties, gloves, and hoods), “hard goods” (regulators, BCDs, computers, analog gauges, etc.), as well as accessories or bags. Both the first and second forms of categorization differentiate between serious divers and occasional or non-systematic ones (holiday or summer divers, etc.). Taking into account the economic cost, the difficulty of transportation due to weight, especially to distant destinations, and the required care for proper maintenance, they encourage new divers to only buy what they truly need and to rent the rest of the equipment, especially the tanks and sometimes the BCDs. In summary, the discussion focuses on the rational orientation of a diver-consumer. This diver not only consumes equipment that is sold like a common commodity but also purchases opportunities for experiencing underwater adventures. Each part of the equipment puzzle in scuba diving is linked to access to experiences which by integrating the buyer and future user into a field of activities aimed at recreation facilitates, safe underwater adventure, and risk management. This equipment enhances comfort, safety, and versatility, enabling divers to navigate underwater environments more efficiently and engage in various activities such as underwater photography. Additionally, scuba diving necessitates formal training and certification, where individuals are required to undergo courses that encompass

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essential skills, safety protocols, dive planning, and operational knowledge of equipment. Accredited certification agencies like PADI, NAUI, and CMAS offer standardized training programs on a global scale. The categorization of diving equipment can also be based on its capacity to facilitate a profound and immersive experience for divers, thereby establishing a connection with the underwater realm and its marine life, which is aligned with the social objectives of each diving form. Within scuba diving, equipment can be evaluated based on its ability to provide unrestricted and comfortable underwater mobility, fostering a sense of interconnectedness with the aquatic environment. Examples of such equipment include well-designed masks with wide visibility and underwater lights that accentuate the vibrant colors of marine life. This category encompasses equipment that enables divers to move effortlessly and efficiently underwater, including properly fitting wetsuits, streamlined and adjustable buoyancy control devices (BCDs), and ergonomic fins that facilitate optimal propulsion. In the case of the recreational field, technology not only facilitates the underwater experience but also enhances and shapes it. The BCD allows the diver to experience buoyancy, while the regulator enables underwater breathing. The overall sensory experience is the result of immersion in the supposedly silent world and the use of equipment attached to the body of the diver-explorer. During diving, divers do not feel the cold intensity due to the diving suit (wet or dry), but they perceive the noisy underwater respiration and exhalation as a hybrid function, partly mechanical and partly biological. The pleasure derived from this experience arises not only from the enjoyment of the underwater world but also from the enjoyment of the ability to see oneself through the integration of equipment and body, a consequence of the embodiment of the underwater technology. Diving, in this sense, means feeling one’s body in conjunction with the equipment, as a process that enhances and modifies the sensory potential, allowing underwater exploration in an ideological framework of enjoyable observation, playful exploration of “another world.” We cannot discretely examine technology from its articulation with the body in scuba diving, when the purpose is to enjoy the view of the underwater environment through embodied navigation. And this in a fluctuating environment. The shift from sportization to the dominance of recreation and ultimately to tourism is a fascinating adventure of new entanglements, leading to successive sensory regimes intertwined with

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peculiar emotional economies. This evolution will be examined in the following chapters. From a historical-phenomenological perspective the question is how the development of diving technology shapes the conditions for the formation of a sensory regime and a corresponding emotional economy within the framework of an underwater entangled condition (Hodder, 2012). Through this perspective, we can categorize modern equipment based on its contribution to shaping the recreational underwater sensory experience. This categorization goes beyond perceiving diving equipment as mere objects used during diving, but rather recognizes them as active entities that actively shape the underwater experience. According to this viewpoint, we can identify three main categories: (a) The regulator, which constitutes scuba diving as such and creates a rift with previous forms of diving. (b) The equipment aimed at facilitating recreational diving and ensuring safety, which necessitates standardized training in its use and the management of underwater risks for recreational purposes. (c) The base equipment, such as primarily the compressor, which, although it remains in the background of public discourse in diving communities, functions as a shaper of diving clusters (along with service shops, hyperbaric medical stations, vessels, and other travel facilities, etc.). The guidelines circulating on social media and in advertising videos consistently and accurately refer to the practice of equipment assembly, often forgetting to incorporate the human body into this assembly, distinguishing equipment, the physical body, and the underwater natural environment. What matters in this perspective is the treatment of diving equipment as a collection of objects used in recreational diving, neglecting or rather not focusing on the fact that they are technoscientific applications that determine the underwater experience, being prerequisites for scuba diving. For this reason, the dominant discourse in both advertisements and the commercial promotion of scuba diving as a tourist product or recreational activity emphasizes the skills of using the equipment.

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Achieving Autonomy Underwater: The Regulator In scuba diving, a regulator is a device that allows a diver to breathe compressed air from a scuba cylinder or tank at the same pressure as the surrounding water. The transition from helmet diving to regulator-based gear can be traced back to the work of inventors Emile Gagnan and Jacques-Yves Cousteau, who developed the first successful scuba regulator, the Aqua-Lung, in the early 1940s. This breakthrough invention eliminated the need for bulky helmets and surface-supplied air hoses, allowing divers to explore underwater environments with greater mobility and flexibility. The introduction of regulators revolutionized diving by allowing divers to carry their own supply of compressed air on their backs, providing greater freedom of movement and independence underwater. Over time, regulators have evolved and become widely adopted in recreational diving as well, making diving more accessible to a wider range of people. For many historians, the turning point in the history of diving and the beginning of the history of scuba diving are synonymous with the completion of the first-stage regulator known as the Aqua-Lung (Hanauer, 1994). The story of the Aqua-Lung goes back to World War II. In June 1943, on a small beach in southern France, Jacques-Yves Cousteau tested the first effective self-contained diving device. It was not a literal invention but a refinement that many had attempted to construct. It is worth noting that Captain Yves Le Prieur, a pioneer of scuba diving, perfected an open-­ circuit, compressed-air device (scaphandre autonome Fernez-Le Prieur) in 1925. However, this device failed to achieve effective regulation of limited airflow, a problem that engineer Emile Gagnan solved by bringing his ideas from the automotive industry into the world of diving. Cousteau aided in modifying the regulator and made it the crowning piece of his Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus (SCUBA), the historic Aqua-Lung. This device was patented (under the French company Air Liquide) and began its commercialization both in France and in the developing market of the United States (initially through U.S. Divers). Later, the entire system was commercially protected and registered with the complex word SCUBA—Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus—that prevails to this day, distinguishing this form of diving from others. While helmet-based diving continues to be used especially in specific commercial operations, the development and widespread use of regulators

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have transformed the diving field in an industry sector (Kieran, 2001), allowing divers to enjoy greater freedom and flexibility in their underwater adventures. Over the years, scuba diving regulators have undergone significant advancements in design, materials, and performance. Some regulators also incorporate additional features such as alternative air sources, integrated dive computers, and environmental seals to enhance safety and comfort during diving. The evolution of scuba diving regulators has greatly improved the safety and accessibility of underwater exploration, allowing divers to venture deeper and longer underwater with increased comfort and ease of breathing. Safety and Comfort Safety and comfort have become primary considerations in the popularity of recreational scuba diving among outdoor enthusiasts. Modern diving equipment has significantly evolved, incorporating innovative technologies aimed at enhancing the safety and comfort of divers. The influence of industry, engineering, and market forces on the design and production of safety and comfort features establishes a connection between the contemporary form of scuba diving and the underlying processes of late capitalism. Starting with fundamental equipment such as dive masks, which allow divers to see clearly underwater, to underwater lights that enhance visibility for exploring the depths, these tools play an essential role in the diving experience. Additionally, buoyancy control devices (BCDs) are integral parts of a diver’s equipment, providing ascent control and maintaining neutral buoyancy underwater. Modern BCDs are equipped with advanced features, including integrated weight systems, quick-release buckles, and adjustable straps, ensuring ease of use and a secure fit. The incorporation of high-quality materials and simplified designs enhances divers’ comfort, enabling effortless movement in the water and the renowned “flying sensation.” Advanced diving fins enable divers to move effortlessly in the water, conserving energy and reducing fatigue, further enhancing the flying sensation. Wetsuits and dry suits play a crucial role in providing thermal protection and insulation for divers in different water temperatures. Wetsuits are commonly constructed from neoprene, which creates a thin water layer against the skin, offering insulation. They are available in various thicknesses to accommodate varying diving conditions. Modern wetsuits feature ergonomic designs that allow for flexibility and ease of movement,

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while reinforced knees and abrasion-resistant materials enhance durability. In contrast, dry suits act as a waterproof barrier, keeping the diver completely dry. They are frequently used in colder water environments and allow for the layering of thermal undergarments. Advances in dry suit technology have resulted in the development of lightweight and breathable materials, enhancing comfort and range of motion for divers. Dive computers have brought about a revolution in dive planning and execution. These sophisticated devices continuously monitor parameters such as depth, bottom time, decompression limits, and ascent rates, providing critical information to prevent decompression sickness and ensure safe diving practices. Dive computers also offer the capability to accommodate multiple gas mixes, making them essential for enriched air and technical diving. Enhanced features like wireless air integration and dive log capabilities further enhance diver convenience and safety. The emphasis on safety and comfort in modern diving equipment reflects broader societal values and norms. The advancements in diving equipment align with shifting attitudes toward risk, recreational activities more broadly, the commercialization of adventure sports, and the expansion of outdoor pursuits. Safety and comfort in scuba diving are shaped by cultural beliefs, practices, and meanings that intersect with gendered expectations and power dynamics. These values are social constructs intertwined with collective processes of negotiating concepts such as risk, adventure, and our relationship with the natural environment. It is not coincidental that the values of safety and comfort are increasingly associated with ecological awareness and the ethics of underwater exploration, which will be further discussed in subsequent chapters. Technology as a Pole of Diving Clusters Technoscientific diving applications not only mediate individual underwater experiences but also function as poles that shape diving communities. This is particularly evident when it comes to complex technological applications that require the collaboration of diving teams, managing intricate scientific applications through which social networks of actors are formed. An indicative example is the use of diving equipment in the sponge diving practice of Kalymnos. Diving with traditional diving helmets (known as “machine,” michani in Greek) is only feasible as a result of a network that includes an organized group with a complex social division of labor and an applied and mobilized technology, through which the sponge diver

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becomes an active link in a chain of events involving objects, marine life, physical practices within a socio-cultural framework driven by livelihood purposes. The diver cannot be separated practically or conceptually from the crew of the diving boat to which they are constantly connected via the air supply hose, the motorized compressor and its operators. The effectiveness of this multidimensional connection determines not only the achievement of the social goals served by the network and for which it was established but also the survival of the diver. In this case, the machine, the diving helmet according to the Kalymnian terminology, acts as the pole of the diving team, which includes both the divers and the people on the complex of supporting vessels involved in sponge diving. Nowadays, another particular case of a pole that brings together people involved in recreational diving is the compressor used for filling the scuba diving tanks. The compressor acts as a pole that connects actual or potential scuba divers and serves as an invisible protagonist that unites divers. With the exception of privately owned and portable compressors, which are not common in recreational scuba diving, this technological application has played a unifying role in the emerging communities of sports and recreational divers since the mid-twentieth century. Compressors are the most underestimated piece of diving equipment in the relevant literature and among diving communities. Recreational divers are not particularly concerned about them and do not seem to consider them a major issue in their efforts to equip themselves adequately. To a certain extent, this may be due to the fact that compressors were not initially associated with diving as a form of technological equipment characterizing scuba diving. They were a technoscience application at the heart of surface-supplied diving but were overshadowed in scuba diving, where they retreated to the background of action. However, compressors are that part of the diving equipment which, despite being almost always in the background, potentially allows us to map the historical evolution of scuba diving in a specific region, such as Greece. They are the category of equipment that allows us to examine the historical evolution of the community of scuba divers more closely, their dispersion, and the frequency of their underwater activities over time, to study them according to Latour’s concept of “Science in Action” (Latour, 1988). If we read the diving history backward, compressors, their number, and their types have been one of the driving forces behind the establishment and dissemination of diving communities, facilitating the growth and development of recreational diving in various regions.

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The history of air compressors dates back to antiquity, with early examples of compressed air being used for various purposes. Overall, the evolution of air compressors has progressed from simple manual devices to advanced and efficient machines widely utilized in various industries and applications today. With the advent of the Industrial Revolution in the nineteenth century, air compressors became extensively employed in tool and equipment manufacturing processes, initially in the form of bellows, manually operated gasoline/petrol-powered compressors, and later electric compressors. Air compressors play a crucial role in the diving sector, providing a continuous supply of compressed air as breathing gas to support underwater diving activities. Divers rely on air compressors to fill their scuba tanks or surface-supplied diving systems with compressed air, allowing them to breathe while submerged underwater. In contemporary times, recreational divers typically utilize stationary air compressors located at dive shops or dive centers to fill their scuba tanks with compressed air for recreational diving pursuits. These air compressors serve as indispensable tools in the diving industry, ensuring a reliable source of compressed air for various diving activities and safeguarding the safety and comfort of divers beneath the water. They must adhere to stringent safety standards and regulations to ensure the quality and purity of the breathing gas. Designed to provide clean and dry compressed air devoid of contaminants such as moisture, oil, and other impurities, air compressors prioritize the safety and well-being of divers (Brylske, 2012; Phillips, 1998). Furthermore, air compressors have played a crucial role in the expansion of dive tourism and the diving industry as a whole. Diving centers, resorts, and liveaboard operations rely on air compressors to fill scuba tanks for their customers. This contribution has facilitated the establishment of diving communities in various locations worldwide, fostering economic opportunities and facilitating cultural exchange. The evolution of diving communities has also been greatly influenced by the presence of air compressors, which have facilitated advancements in scuba diving technology and expanded opportunities for underwater exploration. As a result, a wider range of individuals has been able to engage in diving activities, leading to the growth and diversification of these communities. One significant impact of air compressors on the construction and development of diving communities lies in their role within dive centers and shops. Acting as the backbone of these establishments, air

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compressors are responsible for filling scuba tanks that are either rented out or sold, thus enabling diving businesses to provide essential services to divers. Dive centers often function as central hubs for diving communities, offering training programs, equipment sales, and a gathering space for divers to exchange experiences and connect with like-minded individuals. Within dive centers or dive clubs, air compressors also serve as gathering points for divers. These establishments typically have compressor rooms or designated areas where divers can socialize, share stories, and forge relationships. Such interactions contribute to the formation of diving communities, as divers establish connections with others who share their passion for underwater exploration. During the waiting period for their tanks to be filled, divers often engage in discussions regarding diving techniques, recommendations for dive sites, equipment tips, and safety practices. This exchange of information fosters a sense of community and facilitates mutual learning among divers. Thus, air compressors have played a crucial role in making diving more accessible, supporting technological advancements, promoting dive tourism, and serving as social hubs where divers can connect, learn, and share their experiences. Examining the diving history of Greece, we observe that the introduction of compressors for tank filling was not initially a given. In the early stages, until the 1960s when scuba diving was limited and confined to a small circle of enthusiasts, tank filling was done using high-pressure compressors not specifically designed for this purpose. Gradually, with the development of a slightly larger market, more suitable compressors became available. In issue 20 of Ypovrychios Kosmos (Underwater World) in 1972, we come across an informative article about where a diver could find “suitable compressors” for tank filling: –– –– –– ––

Athens: 3 (including one at EOUDA). Piraeus: 3 (including one at a non-specialized diving store). Thessaloniki: 3. Corfu: 2 (including one at the Nautical Club of Corfu and one at the Barakouda Diving Center in Paleokastritsa, possibly the first of its kind in Europe). –– Heraklion: 1. –– Kavala: 1. –– Rhodes: 1 (at a diving school).

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Among these fourteen “suitable” compressors, which demonstrate the relatively limited extent of recreational diving, we should also consider other less suitable ones that resulted from modifications, adaptations, makeshift solutions, and minor interventions on previous machinery. This period lasted until the mid-1970s and in some areas, even until the early 1980s. As recounted to me by a veteran diver and owner of a diving equipment store in Crete, when he started diving in 1980–81, he purchased a tank from Athens, from a well-known diving store. He filled his tank in a nearby town that had its own compressor. He mentioned that he used to “fishing with bottles (tanks)” regularly (something illegal even at that time). He also filled his tank from the first person who brought a compressor to Crete, nicknamed “Blomblos”—a nickname for the professional diver Manolis Voutsalas, which refers to the noise made by the air bubbles as they ascend to the surface. He was a local legend in the diving community, and he collaborated with Cousteau in his work. “I also filled my tank from there,” he told me. He also filled his tank from the first compressor brought into town by himself. According to his testimony, it was a modified used compressor, which he converted from gasoline-­ powered to electric-powered. Later, he bought and utilized a commercially available German-made compressor, which was much better. This was the era of technological bricolage, as expected for a time of technological experimentation, improvisation, and a still-limited market capable of supporting a localized commercialization of recreational diving. Numerous accounts from these pioneers mention mechanical interventions, especially in infrastructure equipment such as compressors, which were used in various other applications beyond the diving field. The expansion of the market and the development of the diving community, in turn, led to standardization in tank filling services. Table 4.1 provides a rough description of these changes from the 1950s to the present day, illustrating a general trend toward specialization and commercialization. Similar effects can be observed in other technical applications, such as modified vessels used to access remote diving destinations in tourist areas around the world. Initially, existing boats were used for recreational diving. Later, vessels that were originally designed for different purposes were transformed into diving boats, with added areas to accommodate tanks and other diving equipment for large groups of tourist-divers. Today, ships are constructed with particular specifications to facilitate the preparation of divers, their entry into and exit from the water. They have large deck areas and special compartments and hangers for regulators, BCDs, suits,

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Table 4.1  Places with air compressor using by scuba divers in Greece from 1950 to nowadays Stage of bricolage Stage of formation of the recreational diving community Stage of specialization Stage of commercialized global networking

Air compressors in industry Air compressors in specialized diving shops or non-specialized shops Air compressors in specialized diving shops Air compressors in diving centers, specialized shops or as individual equipment

and more. A browse through the social media used by members of diving communities worldwide reveals a multitude of happy faces either preparing for a dive or returning from exotic depths. These technological hubs serve as circulation nodes for recreational divers and professionals, offering access to modified or compressed natural materials, which shape the ultimate underwater sensory experience. The recreational diver carries this network with them, as they are an integral part of it—representing the point of realization, integration, and performance.

Things and Humans Under the Surface of the Sea Undoubtedly, the modern era of diving is closely linked to technological innovations, which have led to two major applications: (a) the diving helmet and, more broadly, surface-supplied diving equipment that relies on air supply from the surface, and (b) the essential technological equipment of scuba diving, the pressure regulator. These advancements did not emerge top-down; they do not concern inventions created in isolated experimental laboratories and then offered as tools for specific diving purposes. The relationship between diving “things” and diving techniques has been much more complex, with periods dominated by experimentation, such as those in which Cousteau and Gagnan were involved, and others where commercialization prevails, as seen in the era of globalized diving tourism. Indeed, the study of the evolution of the relationship between humans-­ divers and the things-diving equipment involved reveals the active role of scientific and technological applications, as well as the active bricolage (Lévi-Strauss, 1962: 27–28), performed by the protagonists. Testimonies from pioneers scuba divers in Greece highlight numerous interventions in

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available diving equipment: modifications and adaptations to the Fernez system, conversion of air compressors, alterations to diving suits, and so on. These examples align with pragmatic semiotics (Berten, 1999: 5), where divers and heterogeneous things are entangled (Hodder, 2012) in the process of shaping an environment of choices and affordances, encompassing techniques, materials, utilization capabilities, and emotional investment. Only in a later stage does commodification gradually limit experimentation and reinforce the standardization of behaviors. The intertwining of humans and things is governed by historicity, as the multiple dependencies created by complex human-things relationships, along with their inherent temporality (Turgo, 2022), propel human action rather than solely determining it. An archaeological perspective combined with a genealogical view allows us to understand that these entanglements tend to increase in scale and complexity, favoring change in certain directions (Hodder, 2018). The multiplication of cyborgs and the intensification of hybridization, which tends to transform the human body and the very condition of experience (Barla, 2019), are evident in the history of diving. The intersection of flows of things and humans, of life perceived as becoming, as continuous metamorphosis (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987, 2009) modifies the forms of mobility (Urry, 2000a, 2000b). Such an interpretation of the underwater adventure allows the moderns to see human penetrations into the watery depths as complex entanglements of institutions, ideas about nature, perceptions of self (individual and collective), as well as scientific and technological applications that enable and mobilize journeys toward the depths. These assemblages gradually lead us to practices that align with specific sensory regimes, resulting from the coupling of body and machine, and emotional economies that embrace the enjoyment of controlled adventure. Especially in the case of recreational scuba diving, technological advancements through scientific applications in underwater exploration, their commercialization, and the standardization of their usage through the development of regulatory institutions for underwater activities largely shape the framework of the recreational diving experience through these entanglements. This constantly evolving entanglement creates diving assemblages, historical forms of coupling technology, body, mindsets, and social regulations. In these assemblages, the periodization mentioned in the second chapter is objectified, representing the gradual transition of scuba diving from

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military use to sports, recreation, and ultimately tourism. In these periods, the social life of things (Appadurai, the social life of things) intersects with the social life of living beings, in our case, (a) humans and (b) what constitutes aquatic life. Flows of things and flows of living beings converge, crystallizing familiar routines (Mol & Law, 1994). I take care of my body for diving, ensuring not to strain it before the dive, getting enough sleep, and abstaining from alcohol. But I also take care of my equipment, functioning as a kind of engineer. During the maintenance process, I smell my equipment, feeling the saltiness of it, just as I sense the silicone in the mechanical parts of the regulator or sometimes the oil from a poorly maintained air compressor in the underwater air I breathe. The Technology Sensory Diving equipment is not merely a collection of functional accessories, but it operates as both prerequisites and mediators of the underwater experience. This experience is a result of using equipment that mediates all senses and corresponding emotions. Through the mask, we see the underwater world, albeit distorted and magnified due to refraction. We breathe through the regulator, protecting ourselves from the cold with wetsuits, and receive information about depth and air quantity in our tanks through specialized instruments. We move using fins. Technological interventions shape our understanding and connection with the world (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987), in our case, the underwater world. At times, modern technoscientific diving applications contribute to the production of hyperreality. Underwater exploration can be guided by information that brings underwater ruins to life, narrating their history and referring to the events that submerged them. Special applications in underwater archaeological sites are already being implemented (e.g., at Elounda, Crete), transforming underwater exploration into a journey through the present and the past. Similar applications can combine diving with information about water quality, the living beings that inhabited these depths in the past, or historical events that the diver-explorer potentially encounters during their underwater passage. In this sense, scuba diving constitutes a total social fact, with the meaning given to it by French anthropologist Marcel Mauss, as one of the phenomena that are simultaneously psychological, social, and biological in their entirety (Mauss, 2006). The body techniques involved in diving

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pertain not only to the relationship between the individual and external objects but also to the perception of one’s own body, emotions, and thoughts. At this point, I will not dwell on the relationship between technology, sensations, and emotions (see Chap. 7). However, the pivotal role of technological applications in the diving practices of recreational divers should be noted. The underwater practices of self into the broader forms of self-­ relationship in the individualized societies of late capitalism, but not exclusively in these. As Gilbert Simondon argued, individuation is an always incomplete process, itself making possible future individuations (Keating, 2019; Simondon, 1989, 1995). Scientific knowledge, on which underwater technology largely relies, aligns with “logic habitus” in the form of spiritual types. Diving equipment represents “realized theories” (Bachelard, 1984 [1934]) that are constantly revitalized during their use in the field of everyday experience (Stehr, 1994), in knowledge societies, and in the development of global networks dominated by applied knowledge (Castells, 1996, 1997, 1998). The psychopower of technological systems (Stiegler, 1998, 2008, 2014, 2015, 2018) influences divers to define their identity and status through the accumulation and display of these possessions, ultimately commodifying the diving experience. Furthermore, psychic individuation always creates both an individual and a collective subject, which individuate themselves together. The pursuit of enjoyable adventure is both a common and collective goal, shaping the new regime through movement itself, constantly under formation. A Magic World The underwater world holds a unique fascination for divers, who often describe it as “magical.” This enchantment is heightened by the technological mediation that accompanies diving experiences. Masks, buoyancy control devices, underwater cameras, and other tools enhance divers’ perception and allow them to capture the captivating beauty of the underwater realm. Through these technologies, divers experience a sense of wonder, fascination, and immersion in a “different world.” This notion of the “magical underwater world” aligns with Benjamin’s idea that technology can create a magical aura and evoke a sense of awe and wonder in our interactions with nature.

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According to Benjamin, both magic and technology involve the transformation of reality (Benjamin, 2008). Magic manipulates natural forces and objects to achieve desired outcomes, while technology manipulates natural resources and materials through human intervention to create new products and systems. In the context of scuba diving, technology plays a crucial role in enhancing the diving experience and enabling divers to explore the underwater world with greater ease and safety. Scuba diving has evolved into an industry driven by consumerism, offering a wide range of diving gear and accessories on the market. The constant pursuit of newer and more advanced equipment perpetuates a culture of consumption, where divers are enticed to acquire the latest gadgets and technological innovations. However, scuba diving gear goes beyond being a mere collection of physical objects. It is also imbued with symbolic meanings and cultural significance, based on both the safety and the enjoyment associated with the underwater adventure. The commodification of diving equipment is based on a broad and diversified network of exchange, trade, and circulation that connects producers, distributors, and consumers, shaping the social relations involved in these transactions. What is more, scuba diving gear is produced, marketed, and consumed within a context that promotes a sense of adventure and freedom, appealing to individuals seeking unique experiences and a break from their routine lives. In some cases, scuba diving gear transcends its utilitarian function and becomes fetishized, like other commodities that acquire the meaning of objects of desire and obsession (Appadurai, 1986). This is particularly evident in the process of its musealization when diving is perceived as cultural heritage rather than just an active practice. The diving equipment is then endowed with mystical or magical qualities that give them symbolic power and allure. Specific brands, models, or designs become highly desirable and coveted by divers. The mystique and allure associated with specialized gear create a sense of status, identity, and belonging. Divers may attach symbolic meaning to their equipment, considering it as a representation of their dedication, expertise, and commitment to the sport. The fetishization of scuba diving gear reflects the social and cultural dynamics that shape individual desires and aspirations within the diving community. Owning and displaying diving gear can communicate a diver’s affiliation with a particular diving school, certification agency, or diving style. Divers may choose specific colors, patterns, or personalized accessories to express their individuality and establish a personal brand within the community.

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Beyond the Underwater World Through these assemblages (Deleuze & Guattari, 2009), various entities are not merely combined within dynamic and heterogeneous networks that emerge from interactions and connections between different elements. Assemblage theory, with its concepts of desiring-production, rhizome, and becoming, provides insights into the dynamic interplay of elements in shaping human experiences, identities, and social structures. When underwater bodily practices (Mauss, 2006) are performed, technoscientific tools from advanced technological applications are activated, and socially constructed representations influenced by active streams of ideas about recreation and ecological crisis are mobilized, ultimately forming historically shaped domains of meaning for the underwater realm. Deleuze and Guattari emphasize that reality is not composed of fixed entities but emerges from the interactions and intermingling of various elements (Deleuze & Guattari, 1994). They propose that these interactions give rise to assemblages, which are temporary and ever-changing arrangements of entities and forces. Assemblages can range from macro-­ level phenomena, such as ecosystems or societies, to micro-level phenomena, such as individuals or concepts (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987). These assemblages, often taking the form of dispositifs, can be analyzed by following two main paths (Bodier and Barbot, 2016: 423, 425–426): (a) examining the relationship between humans and things under the logic of seeking their symmetry, according to the epistemological assumptions of actor-network theory (Latour & Woolgar, 1986; Latour, 1988, 1991a, 1999, 2000, 2002, 2005) or strong program (Bloor, 1976, 1999), and (b) exploring the mediations between assemblages of things and humans, whether conceptualized as dispositifs (Foucault, Discipline and Punish and The History of Sexuality) or assemblages (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987, 1994), which are complementary concepts. In this book, the second path is followed, which focuses on investigating the mediations of human underwater experience through technology within broader historically shaped frameworks, including processes of subjectivity formation, values, identities, and politics in relation to the past and the future, often infused with ecological concerns. Technology-mediated experiences of the underwater world alter the aura traditionally attributed to nature. Technoscientific applications serve as a set of signs and symbols within broader systems of meaning and cultural ideologies, accompanied by corresponding symbolic conflicts such as

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masculinities and their contestation (e.g., profile pictures of certain male divers where the body and face disappear behind imposing technology resembling armor), the identity of conqueror, the ecologically sensitive diver, the modern and the traditional diver. These distinctions lead us to the era of heritization, the era in which diving is considered to have a heritage, a past that needs to be preserved in memory.

The Era of Diving Heritization The dominance of scuba diving in an increasingly commodified field of recreation gradually marginalizes traditional forms of diving around the world. When these traditional forms of diving are still practiced, they tend to be regarded as precisely “traditional,” non-modern. They are relegated to the realm of memory conservation institutions, now an element of cultural heritage that “must” be preserved. This is the fate of diving with skandalopetra or scuba diving, which prevailed in the Dodecanese region in Greece, particularly in Kalymnos, as described in the previous chapter. The development of institutions, regulations, and actions, special publications, and active social networks aimed not at “exploring” the depths but at “preserving” diving and fishing traditions (understood as fundamental elements of cultural heritage), has multiplied since the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries (Dahles, 2001). Often, the concern for preserving diving heritage has a local scope, as in the case of sponge diving in Kalymnos, sometimes national, and occasionally global. This shift is not limited to the diving practices of a region’s past or other cultures but gradually incorporates the growing concern for the environment, for the present and future of aquatic life. In diving tradition, both diving practices and the environments in which they take place, namely the underwater environment and aquatic life in all its forms, are being included. In the case of the Dodecanese and Kalymnos, both diving practices and sponges, as living organisms and commodities, are being considered. However, museums and similar oriented actions, groups, and institutions aim not only at preservation but also at cultivating concern for the diving future. On the one hand, they emphasize the preservation of memory regarding practices and ensuring the longevity of underwater environments, and on the other hand, they connect diving practices with the living reality.

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The latter relates to new museum trends that connect the past with the cultivation of sensitivities and approaches directly integrated into preparing for the future, with a new approach of diving heritage institutions. Thus, in modern diving history museums, we frequently see informative activities developed for conservation and restoration programs of the underwater environment. There is a focus on raising awareness about the risks of human overactivity on underwater life. Additionally, we will encounter information programs about career opportunities related not only to the preservation of diving heritage but also referencing the most advanced technological innovations. As an indicative example, we could mention an informational program in a museum in the United States that explores how astronauts are first trained as divers to familiarize themselves with weightlessness. Active astronauts presented these specific training programs, and many related films were shown to the general public. At the same time, an experienced female diver and astronaut promote future careers in science, technology, and engineering fields for young women. The reference to the past aims not only to enlighten the importance of technology as the starting point for diving practices but also to shape the future with direct reference to social narratives regarding the relationship between humans, technology, and nature. Summarizing this reflection, diving heritage institutions in Greece and worldwide tend to include the following interests: (a) Local diving traditions. (b) Practices of pioneering divers, explorers, and inventors of diving equipment. (c) History of underwater technology. (d) Aquatic life (considering institutions or NGOs focused on preserving aquatic life or managing ecological risks). (e) Connections from the past to the future. Diving heritage is really invented, following the approach of Hobsbawm and Ranger (1983). However, although it is part of the long history of the creation of traditions in recent times, the invention of diving heritage has its specificities as it is integrated into an active and continuously expanding diving reality. By examining specific aspects of diving practices, we can fairly accurately trace the milestones of their evolution in the modern era. The purpose of this book is not to delve into that direction, as it would

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require more extensive research. However, based on the available data, a clear shift in diving practices emerges: (a) on the one hand, toward cultural heritage and (b) on the other hand, toward transformed practices within the new framework of sports, leisure, and tourism. In the following sections, I will address three such points: the creation of diving museums, the integration of diving with skandalopetra into the world of sports, and the development of an all-female scuba diving club in Kalymnos, the birthplace of sponge diving traditionally practiced exclusively by men. Diving Past as Cultural Heritage In recent years, there has been a proliferation of museums, institutions, and organizations focusing on diving heritage. Most of these social expressions of collective diving memory have a relatively recent horizon worldwide, as the invention of diving tradition is a recent human adventure. Even contemporary diving guides include sections on the history of diving and provide information on early diving equipment, including diving helmets. For example, the Florida Keys History of Diving Museum was established in Florida, USA, as recently as 2005. The Historical Diving Society (HDS) in the United Kingdom, founded in 1990, also has a relatively short history. In Greece, the Naval Museum of Kalymnos was founded in 1994, when sponge diving ceased to be the dominant professional occupation. In each country with a diving past, official or non-governmental bodies promoting specific aspects of cultural heritage engage in activities interpreted as forms of preserving fishing cultural heritage (Dimitropoulos & Olympitou, 2010; Mylona et al., 2021), within a broader turn toward the past and the preservation of memory (Huyssen, 2003), based on an emphasis on “locality” (Edensor et al., 2020), as in the case of the local diving tradition. Worldwide social media networks also focus on diving history, reproducing publications from the “heroic” years of the 1950s and 1960s, featuring diving helmets and vintage scuba diving equipment. The outdated diving technology and earlier diving techniques tend often to be “fetishized” as heritage, concealing the active role they continue to play in the present (Habermas, 1970). The incorporation of the traditional practices and equipment in contemporary condition occurs in at least three ways: (a) by integrating them as exploitable components within globalized tourism, (b) by transforming them into a usable framework based on

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sports and recreation in the present time, and (c) in forging a local maritime identity that both highlights the rupture with the past and is organically integrated into the global forces of late capitalist modernity. Preservation and promotion entities of local diving heritage have been established worldwide, focusing on the diving past of specific areas. Most of these entities are utilized for tourism purposes, organically integrated into the development of thematic tourism, within which a “new regime of cultural heritage” is developed, where tourism and heritage production are combined and mutually reinforced (Graburn, 2000; Gravari-Barbas & Guinand, 2017; Gravari-Barbas, 2020). The specialization of the cultural dimension of social and the corresponding trend of thematization, through which the individual trends of cultural heritage are exploited for tourism, constitute components of the “postmodern cultural logic” of capitalism (Jameson, 1991; Triantis, 2018, 2020). The integration of “diving cultural heritage” into the tourism field takes place at the same time as the development of thematic archaeological parks and accessible underwater archaeological sites, such as shipwrecks and submerged sections of ancient cities. The first underwater thematic museum of this kind was established in Greece, on the island of Alonnisos, at the Peristera shipwreck, which opened for visits for the first time in the summer of 2020. The interconnection of diving heritage with the vibrant reality of the present organically aligns it with the global forces of late capitalist modernity, contributing to the formation of the respective local maritime identity. Simultaneously, the “revival” of transformed traditional diving practices incorporates them into the realm of sports, recreation, and tourism. Metamorphoses: Bellstone Diving as a Sport One of the most characteristic revivals of traditional diving practices, transformed within a modern framework (Gross, 1992), in our case of sports, recreation, and tourism promotion, is the Skandalopetra diving games. In the broader effort to preserve the memory of older diving practices, considered part of Greek cultural heritage, particularly the use of Skandalopetra (bellstone, Kalafatas, 2003), several initiatives have been made to institutionalize similar competitions. Thus, the romantic depiction of the transition from sponge diving with Skandalopetra to helmet diving (Sambanis, 2015) is succeeded by a return to the past in a

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systematic effort to transform its use into a sport (competitive free diving with Skandalopetra) or recreation (diving games). In a website promoting the cultural identity of Kalymnos for tourism purposes, reference is made to the early years of the current century in “The future of Skandalopetra.” As we read, the efforts began with the aim “to revive the Skandalopetra dive as a free diving game.” Participants are not limited to experienced divers, as “during the Skandalopetra Free Diving Games, anyone can try a dive and participate,” while “highly regarded free diving athletes try to break the previous depth record.” Indeed, diving with Skandalopetra is perfectly compatible with competitive diving using fixed weights, which has worldwide popularity. In this case, however, we have something more, a multifaceted view of a traditional diving practice as cultural heritage that can be utilized both for tourism and sports (see, Photo 4.1 and 4.2). As mentioned on the website of the Kalymnian Hoteliers Association, “we consider it our duty and obligation to promote our diving heritage and revive Skandalopetra diving at least on a sports level.” For this reason, the diving games will be accompanied by informative seminars and cultural events of diving interest. In the future, efforts will be made to establish the Diving Games as “free diving competitions” in their own right. The first of these will be dedicated to the Kalymnian Professor of Medicine Skevos Zervos, who first diagnosed the “Naked Divers’ Disease”, also known as the “Zervos Disease” (a form of necrotizing dermatitis in sponge divers caused by nematocysts living in the roots of sponges, affecting the naked divers in areas of skin contact with the sponge, mainly the hands, chest, and abdominal area). The competitions will intensify in the following years, becoming international, with the participation of prominent figures from the global arena, such as Umberto Pelizzari and Brazilian free diving champion Karol Meyer. Many participants will manage to exceed 100 meters in depth using Skandalopetra. “Everything old is new again,” states a relevant online advertising publication. It continues, referring to the revived past, serving the new goals of the era: For thousands of years, Greek divers sailed the Mediterranean and out to the Atlantic coast of Africa in search of sponges. Skandalopetra divers of old wore nothing, neither gear nor clothing, as they plunged to incredible depths riding disk-shaped stones. A cable or a rope attached to these disk-­ shaped stones allowed people on the surface to then pull the intrepid divers

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Photo 4.1  Men with skandalopetra participating in athletic competition. Photo by Kostas Ladas back up to safety […]. On the Greek Isles, a group of traditionalists has kept the tradition of “Stone Diving” alive and well, focusing on safety and fun (rather than sponges.)

Indeed, the transformed use of skandalopetra is adorned with a modern ecological cloak, perceived as a more innocent environmental diving practice, fully integrated into the new ideological environment of safety and recreation.

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Photo 4.2  Woman with skandalopetra participating in athletic competition. Photo by Kostas Ladas

Women in New Underwater Worlds The traditional form of diving in Greece, associated with sponge diving, regardless of the specific technological equipment used (diving stone, helmet, Fernez-type or narghile-type apparatus, etc.), was exclusively practiced by men. However, we have seen that other traditional diving

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communities not only did not exclude women but also, on the contrary, constituted purely or predominantly female communities, such as the Ama in Japan or the Haenyo in South Korea. In the sponge diving tradition of the Dodecanese, which has come to symbolize the local Greek diving cultural heritage, only men participated. Diving skills incorporated dominant ideological characteristics of masculinity, which diving behavior was meant to reinforce. Elements such as daring character, bravado in the face of danger, and fearlessness (Kalafatas, 2003: 74–89) constituted not only diving skills but also specific dimensions of the poetics of manhood (Herzfeld, 1985). Diving practice was an enactment of masculinity directly linked to the status of men in the island societies dependent on sponge diving, particularly in Kalymnos (Kalafatas, 2003: 74–76). The individual physical abilities of traditional sponge diving using stones give way to the skills of operating a complex mechanism that requires the collaboration of a well-organized team with clear role assignments. The gendered body of the “diving mechanic” from the middle of the nineteenth century inaugurates a new era in underwater masculinities, as well as in any exploration that necessitates the use of intricate technological applications, where traditional forms of male dominance find fertile ground for reproduction, especially in their early stages. The diver-­ mechanic is a member of a ship’s crew, breathing air through a hose connected to a manually operated compressor. They are part of a productive system with links to both the old diving tradition and the global networks of sponge trade. This diver represents a “moment” at the intersection of the past and the future, embodying the most advanced technological applications of their time, as famously envisioned by Jules Verne in the Western imagination of conquering the depths of the oceans. The use of the Fernez apparatus and later the narghile operates within the same framework of performing masculinity. In Kalymnos, the iconic island of sponge diving and long-standing local diving tradition, the first women-only diving club in Greece was established in May 2011. It is named “Women Divers Association of Kalymnos – Daughter of Kalymnos.” The name alludes to a bronze statue, also bearing the same name, a work of Hellenistic sculpture depicting a woman with her body covered by a chiton and a fringed garment. It was found entangled in the nets of local fishermen in 1995, unexpectedly emerging from the waters of Kalymnos (exhibited at the Kalymnos Museum).

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As defined in Article 5 of the association’s bylaws, “Members of the Association must be women, certified divers, over the age of 18, generally unaffiliated with political alliances, and distinguished as regular or honorary members.” Without placing an upper age limit, in line with the current international practice of not setting age restrictions for scuba diving, this association serves as an organization that mediates diving’s past, present, and future, transitioning from work and fishing to recreation. Gender itself operates here as a central mediating factor in the representations and bodily practices that relate to the relationship between humans and the underwater environment, directly referencing the available technological applications. The purposes of the association, as stated in article 2 of its statute, are: (a) “The defense of the interests of amateur scuba divers. (b) The development and spread of scuba diving. (c) The continuous information and training of the Association members on scuba diving issues. (d) The upgrading of training and services provided to amateur scuba divers and the providers of the corresponding services in accordance with European standards, Greek and international practice. (e) The protection of the Greek seas, cultural heritage, lakes, rivers and the natural environment in general, with relevant actions addressed to the competent authorities. (f) The ecological awareness of the public and specifically the restoration of ecosystems and the protection, management and promotion of biodiversity (e.g. beach cleaning). (g) The development of sports activities related to scuba diving. (h) The advertisement of the island of Kalymnos.” We find here almost all the considerations that arise in any similar association of amateur divers around the world: a focus on recreation and sports, emphasis on proper training, and a prevalent ecological awareness for the protection of underwater ecosystems. The training is not associated with traditional sponge diving equipment but with modern certified scuba gear. As ecologically oriented initiatives, the cleaning of underwater areas is mentioned, both in Kalymnos and in the surrounding islands (e.g., Nisyros). Indeed, there are several photo reports on social media and in the local media of the Dodecanese that refer to similar activities by the members of the association. The public character of these actions fits into

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the expected repertoire of the public nature and outward sociality of associations of this type (Koulouri, 1997: 203, 209), through which the visibility of the members is achieved by claiming the integration of their actions into the male monopoly of the region’s diving tradition. These actions, therefore, have a deeper character of integration into the collective local identity. In a conversation I had with members of the association, they mentioned that the initiative was taken by a small group of Kalymnian women who decided to undergo training with a certified institution on the island. Another member of the association mentioned that the main motivation was the fear of decompression sickness for her husband, who was already an amateur diver. It is a situation that has “plagued the island so much.” As she told me, none of her family members were professional divers, but every family on Kalymnos, including her own, has members who are somehow professionally involved in sponge diving. All Kalymnians have grandparents or distant relatives who were or are sponge divers, and their connection to diving runs deep within the local community. The connection to the local diving heritage is naturally direct. The mention of advertising Kalymnos is almost synonymous with the promotion of its diving cultural heritage. The association participated in the revival of the sponge diving season, where a female member dressed in attire symbolizing past masculinity to contribute to the promotion of the cultural heritage of the region. Furthermore, it is not about a “dead” tradition but rather an ongoing relationship with the sea and its depths. “The sea is in our DNA,” one of my interviewees remarked, invoking physical skills inherent in local maritime traditions, which are valuable assets within the emerging field of recreational diving. However, in this modern form of diving, the emphasis is placed on safety, proper training, and adherence to rules. “As our instructor used to tell us, it’s like driving a car—if you follow the rules, you won’t be in danger,” another member of the association mentioned. The increased participation of women signifies deeper transformations within the diving activity itself, not only because it is detached from the sponge diving tradition that was associated with poetic masculinity. Primarily, it is because values such as safety and the enjoyable relationship with the underwater environment through the use of scuba gear require proper training and the development of a relationship with one’s embodied self underwater based on the reasonable management of risks. The intensity of women’s engagement in scuba diving in Greece is directly

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proportional to the transition from the world of professional, military, and livelihood-oriented diving to the world of recreation. Of course, it is not the first time that women have been actively involved in the field of recreational and sport diving. We can mention circular number 51/20.08.1969 sent by the president of the Hellenic Underwater Federation to all members Naval Clubs, with a copy to the prime minister, titled “Formation of Women’s Underwater Swimming Team.” The circular states the following (reprinted in issue 90 of the Ypovrychios Kosmos [Underwater World] magazine, pp. 40–41): To the Omilon Filon Aktis [Club of Friends of the Coast], we express our warmest congratulations for the establishment, under their auspices, of a women’s underwater swimming team that participated in the Panhellenic Underwater Swimming Competition of 1969, achieving highly satisfactory results. This historic event in Greek underwater activities honors the pioneering Club of Friends of the Coast (O.F.A.) and its Board of Directors. We hope that soon other affiliated [to EOUDA] clubs will also establish women's teams, thus contributing to the promotion and progress of underwater sports among the young women of our country. With utmost respect, Admiral Th. Voutsaras, President

Similar efforts have taken place sporadically. However, the establishment of the first exclusively women’s diving club on the island, within the context of the well-established traditional diving practiced exclusively by men, marks a significant turning point, transitioning into the realm of recreational diving dominance. As we will see in the next chapter, scuba diving in Greece was also initially associated with masculinity, as it was predominantly pursued by the most resilient specialized forces known as “frogmen,” an occupation still considered inaccessible to women today. The inclusion of women in the world of scuba diving is directly linked to deeper social and cultural transformations that have led to their integration into the realms of sports and recreation. Beyond diving practices, women’s engagement in diving signifies a change in its nature.

CHAPTER 5

From the Navy to the Sport’s World

Where such a group of professional specialists is present, no matter how strongly the attempt is made to keep them in a dependent position, the seeds of bureaucratization present. Above all, such persons can neither be appointed nor dismissed according to the procedures appropriate to immediate democracy. Max Weber, Economy and Society. An Outline of Interpretive Sociology, University of California Press, 1978, p. 290.

This chapter focuses on the history of scuba diving in Greece, examining its nascent stages within the context of the naval sector and the simultaneous establishment of institutions closely linked to the global domain. These institutions aimed to foster a broader culture of marine recreation. The interpretation of scuba diving as a non-competitive sport initially contributed to its separation from the military and the economic exploitation of underwater resources, and subsequently transformed it into a popular recreational activity characterized by the practices of late modernity. Alongside related water activities, it came under the supervision of specialized institutions that prioritized the development of marine activities and fostered people’s connection with the sea. The development of a distinct culture of recreational diving was shaped and guided by global institutions that emphasized safety standards, training protocols, and certification procedures. Concurrently, with the standardization and commercialization of © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Tzanakis, Scuba Diving Practices in Greece, Leisure Studies in a Global Era, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-48839-9_5

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educational processes, a critical mass of professional instructors was created, fostering a culture that systematically valued physical abilities and achievements to a lesser extent, while placing emphasis on safe diving for the enjoyment of the underwater nature. As a result, diving gradually transformed into an activity that focused on the rational management of underwater risks, ensuring safe diving through proper training in the use of appropriate equipment available in suitable diving shops and understanding of diving physiology, thereby expanding the underwater horizons.

Brawny Dives The history of scuba diving in Greece is linked, especially in its early stages, to the history of the navy’s special forces, which was directly influenced by the country’s political history. This relationship begins with the creation of the Greek version of Underwater Demolition Command (Dioikisi Ypovrichion Katastrophon) in 1953. In this field, the special forces of the navy, the new technology was applied for the first time in Greece, either in its classic form of scuba gear or in the form of rebreathers. As a consequence of Greece’s accession to NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organization), the first “amphibious reconnaissance” team was created, according to the American standards of Underwater Demolition Teams, with the mission of support of Navy landing ships or similar enterprises. This was followed by the sending of Greek Officers to the USA, to participate in specialized training in order to create a first core of Greek instructors in this field. These instructors were called upon to undertake the organization of a national underwater demolition training, at a time when the standardization of diving training was in its infancy at a global level, particularly in the recreational domain. The Submarine Demolition School began its operation in 1957 at the Kanellopoulos Training Center (KECAN) supplying the Submarine Demolition teams with non-specialized staff of the Greek Navy, without interrupting the regular mission of training executives of the armed forces, especially the navy, in the USA. This special part of the Greek navy is today called Dioikisi Ypovrichion Katastrofon (DYK, Underwater Demolition Administration). Although several names and organizational forms have changed, the basic philosophy of this military unit, as one of the most demanding sections of the army, remains constant over time. In 1968 they were called the Command of the Underwater Demolition Group (D/OUK), based in Skaramangas,

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in 1969 the Underwater Demolition Unit (MYK). But the collective fantasy of diving was dominated by the name OYK (Underwater Demolition Team) and its graduates, professionals or young men serving their military service, as “oikades” or simply frogmen (“vatrachanthropoi,” in Greek). The Greek frogmen gained a great reputation as the toughest part of the special military forces, characterized by a masculine, bold, courageous, and dynamic mentality. A temperament that was thought to characterize the majority of the pioneering multi-experienced scuba divers who influenced recreational diving in Greece, especially in its early stages. There are quite a few personalities who connected their life story with scuba diving starting from the navy and continuing in the field of diving training, the trade of diving equipment and marine leisure services, also occupying administrative positions of responsibility in related sports institutions, from Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities (EOUDA) to the local Nautical Clubs. The “Underwater Men,” the Bible of Scuba Diving in Greece The main characteristics of the habitus of the male body armor of the frogmen are incorporated in the first and only specialized manual of scuba diving written in Greece, authored by the former commander of the navy’s special forces department, Manolis Papagrigorakis, entitled The Underwater Man (O Ypovrichios Antropos): A Complete Study of Diving. This book will undoubtedly be read by all aspiring divers, time and time again. Serving as an indispensable aid for all divers, it can be found in almost every personal library, being the sole instructional guide for scuba diving written in the Greek language until relatively recently. The next relevant book, translated from German, is R. Holzapfel’s “These are the Underwater Dives” (the German edition of 1982 was translated into Greek in 1986). Up until the end of the twentieth century, translated texts from international training service providers were not circulating in Greece. Within the pages of The Underwater Man, we encounter a systematic exposition of scuba diving, but also numerous sections that extol the dominant ethos of the environment in which it originated—the rugged realm of the special forces. On page 45 of the 1991 edition, we read the following: From each class, although 100 to 150 volunteers come, they finally graduate around 15. Almost all the rest declare that they cannot cope and drop out

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of training. Some are shunned as unsuitable. But those who stay have great will, muscular endurance and courage. They can work hard under difficult conditions without getting tired. They will satisfactorily fulfill any mission assigned to them. They will be Korean wrestling champions and the most skilled knife pullers. They will be frogmen!

Frogmen, who at one point in Greece were identified with scuba divers in general, were understood as superheroes who can do anything, indelibly marking the collective imagination with the idea that the scuba diver is a man with exceptional physical abilities, a fearless conqueror of the seabed. In the first edition of the book, that of 1965, the emphasis on masculinity is more evident. We read on page 40 of this edition: The words PROBABLY, IF, I CAN’T and others similar, do not exist in the vocabulary of the O.Y.K. Staff. Like all Scotch whiskies, they are all good.

However, already in the following pages of this first edition of 1965 (pp. 39–40) the author separates the specific androcentric conditions of frogmen from the conditions of scuba diving in general, stating the following: Any person (male or female), as long as they are healthy and know how to swim, can dive below the surface of the sea with a breathing apparatus or simply by holding their breath. It is not necessary to swim like a dolphin, nor to have a Hellenic record.

Here the emphasis shifts from specific physical abilities to milder criteria that apply to almost the entire general population, regardless of gender. Of course, the author is referring at this point to scuba diving in general and not to the frogmen sector. Already in this prestigious book of the history of diving in Greece, two distinct fields of underwater activity emerge, that of naval special forces and that of leisure activity, increasingly separated from the 1960s onward with the gradually increasing sportization of diving. However, we should note that the changes in the direction of the sportization of diving and its subsequent inclusion in the world of recreation affected to some extent the character of military training in the navy. Firstly, physical skills, based on strenuous training (running, swimming, exercises, etc.) are gradually legitimized as a condition not of underwater

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sports but of safe diving, regardless of its purpose and special military-type diving equipment (such as systems recirculating breathing with filters, the rebreathers). Divers should have the best possible physical abilities in order to carry out their military missions safely. The health of frogmen is linked to effectiveness in military missions. Secondly, in the special training areas, diving training programs are organized at a later time, aimed at all military personnel, and not only at the special forces. These programs incorporate most of the usual safety rules and established international skills certification standards, and do not follow the special training regime of frogmen. A prerequisite for scuba diving in these general training programs is no longer physical fitness, sculpted with the military discipline of special forces to the maximum extent, but a minimum level of health and physical abilities. These two orientations already appear in the first edition of Papagrigorakis’ book, in the form of contradictory propositions and formulation of alternative conditions for engaging in scuba diving. The strict conditions of the special underwater forces in the first decade of their organization in Greece are quite different from those set by today’s global organizations providing scuba diving training services; there is from the beginning an osmosis between criteria and purposes, mainly regarding the medicalization of the body and the recognition of the necessity for safe diving. This is clearly reflected in the pages of Papagrigorakis’ manual, specifically in the chapter entitled “Physiology and Anatomy of Diving” (1965: 73–83) and with greater intensity in the extensive chapter entitled “Problems and Dangers of Diving” (1965: 84–170). There the author thoroughly refers to the conditions and underwater challenges, which are no longer posed in terms of male physical strength but a concern for knowledge of human physiology, the natural laws that explain the effects on the diver’s body and the techniques that will enable men and women to be safely at the depths, which they can carefully enjoy. The argumentation is based on a thorough analysis of safety rules which are in turn based on the knowledge of the physiology of the body under conditions of increased pressure. If these rules are violated or insufficient consideration is given to the individual’s physical condition (fatigue, possible illness, etc.), then it is considered that an accident is more likely to occur. Medical problems such as nitrogen narcosis or decompression sickness (called usually divers’ disease) are some of the risks of diving, the knowledge of which the certified training aims to impart to new underwater

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explorers. As Papagrigorakis argues, scuba divers, men or women, should not only prevent accidents but also be able to recognize the symptoms in time to seek specialized help, with the assistance of their buddies. The medical intervention in case of a diving accident, which is also based on sophisticated medical equipment, requires hospitalization in closed hyperbaric chambers, which were developed also by the Greek army, in particular by the navy, the history of which we will refer to below. Being the sole but simultaneously systematic and pioneering work of its time, “The Underwater Man” served as the Bible of scuba diving, the indispensable manual for every scuba diver. In a literary narrative, Dr. Kostas Kalatzis, the subsequent president of the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities, refers to the author as follows: This guy was a strong tall lad, handsome with a smiling face, bright eyes, and curly pitch-black hair. […] He was one of the first Navy officers to be trained as frogmen in the United States, and was destined as an incomparable teacher and author of the great book ‘Underwater Man’ to establish the basis of scuba diving in Greece. (Kalatzis, 1990: 265)

These complimentary words are by no means exaggerated. The book is truly well written, capturing the educational and diving experiences of its author. The positive disposition toward a naval officer, of course, pertains not only to the aforementioned writer and instructor. It was through the military that the pioneers of scuba diving emerged in Greece. This rugged diving environment gave rise to the first small group of experienced scuba divers, who would later become the legends of the local recreational diving commune. Several of them, all men, carried over the diving experiences they gained either as naval personnel or simply as “graduates” of the specialized frogmen schools, into the emerging economic field that was taking shape. Many of them became instructors, while others opened shops trading in diving equipment, collaborated with diving centers, or diving schools. In essence, they became the first professionals in the field of recreational diving in the country. Significant Biographies The first instructors who emerged from the ranks of the naval forces became something akin to heroes. They enjoyed the laurels of pioneers, and some of them leveraged their experience to dominate the nascent

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social field, as is common in analogous cases. As local legends, they functioned as shapers, much like Cousteau himself (Lukasz, 2015), an internationally renowned personality, with whom, moreover, most of them had personal encounters while collaborating on underwater research during his visits to Greece. A characteristic example is that of the first among the first, according to the accounts of the first instructor, Nikos Kartelias. In a biographical interview with Antonis Drosos, published in the “Boat and Fishing” magazine under the title “The First to Teach Diving,” he narrates his journey in the field of diving, providing us with an image of those initial years of scuba diving in Greece (Drosos, 2017). Originally a mountaineer and the son of a farmer, with no prior connection to the sea, he served as an officer in the naval forces from 1947. In 1954, he was part of the first seven-­ member team from the Hellenic Navy dispatched to the USA for training at the U.S. Underwater Demolition Team. Being the only one who successfully graduated, he became the sole instructor of the first Greek Navy frogman school, which commenced its operations in 1957. After leaving the naval forces and working as a professional diver, he established the first diving school in 1966, which continued its uninterrupted operation until 1980. It was the first school to obtain a legal operating license, despite the lack of clear legislation at that time. Within its framework, as well as in a few other similar schools that operated during that initial period of recreational diving in Greece, new technology was introduced and disseminated. His establishment served as a fixed air supply station for tanks and a commercial hub for diving equipment. As he himself mentioned in the aforementioned interview: […] I brought a compressor to fill air, because those who were diving went to factories to get their air filled. […] I have helped underwater diving, professional divers, sponge divers who wanted to try with more modern means. (Drosos, 2017)

Simultaneously, he becomes the first representative of the renowned Italian firm Technisub. Consequently, this first diving school, along with others of a similar nature during that initial period, serves as a hub where new skills blend with the gradual standardization of education in emerging technoscientific applications.

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In these early schools, the trainees are not soldiers but ordinary, occasionally educated individuals seeking to connect with the underwater world. As he himself states: My first students were professionals, such as doctors, lawyers, etc., and I had to teach those who had the ability to learn and liked it. […] It happened that the first class had six students who were all scientists [professionals]. Then I formed groups in schools where I matched workers and professionals together, in order for the class to function better. (Drosos, 2017)

In these courses, anyone can participate, without any restrictions. From the moment one learns how to swim. Diving is easier than long breath-holding. If you take someone who can’t swim and throw him in deep water, he’ll drown. But if you give him a bottle, throw him in deep water and he breathes, then he won’t drown. (Drosos, 2017)

As a clear proof of the above, he cites the example of his own wife, who, according to his accounts, first learned how to dive and then how to swim. The first Greek frogman transforms diving from an achievement reserved for strong men into a practice for every individual, regardless of age, gender, or physical prowess. Scuba diving is no longer a heroic feat, but an activity based on risk control, achieved through mastering one’s impulses. This evolution, both in personal perceptions and collective representations, is reflected in the assessment of his overall contribution to the world of diving, stating significantly, “I am satisfied because I have contributed to diving, and we have managed to save lives from those who were ‘spirited’” (in Drosos, 2017). This new conception is summarized in Kartelias’ fundamental advice to aspiring divers: We should not try to learn diving by ourselves, but always close to experienced instructors. This way we won’t be at risk. Nowadays, the means used by diving schools are absolutely safe. Always dive in pairs and with excellent equipment, which of course must be very well maintained. (Drosos, 2017)

Engaging personally in discussions with experienced divers of advanced age reveals a consistent pattern. Although many experimented with informal diving instruction from others before, ultimately, they all received formal training at some point, either directly from N. Kartelias himself or

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from the few others who were active in the field of education until the mid-1970s, establishing recognized schools. One such pioneer was Periklis Liamis, who also originated from the ranks of the naval forces. Education in accredited schools was always accompanied by studying the bible of Manolis Papagrigorakis, the book “The Underwater Man.” During our interviews, these usually still active divers proudly showed me their certifications, sometimes framed and displayed on a wall. The content of their training included elements of physical trials with origins in military ideology; however, the focus was primarily on safety, achieved through a solid grasp of how increased underwater pressure affects the body. A characteristic testimony was entrusted to me by a later-generation diving legend, an active professional diver up to the time of writing these lines. His words capture the significance of safety, viewed from the perspective of the present, with a gaze imbued by contemporary ethics that also delegitimizes fishing using scuba diving gear: So, when I turned 18-20 years old, there was a guy who had bottles on a boat and did some work there in Linoperamata [region in Crete], on chains, on the anchors, on the ships, small tasks that is. That was in ’69, ’70. He had a small one [Compressor], it took an hour to fill a bottle. Just one bottle. Anyway, that’s where I first dived, to tie a chain, to tie an anchor, to find an anchor in the port. He had his own and put me to work. But there wasn’t a single word on how to protect myself from diving. With bottles. Without knowing, that is. I was diving with zero experience. I was diving, running out of air, he told me to hold my breath so as not to consume it. Hold your breath to come up? How am I alive, I’m lucky. Thinking then, how am I alive, I’m lucky. Well, then, in ’74, I went to Kartelias—I have the paper [certification] here. I learned there, in Athens, I learned correctly and started slowly. I bought a compressor. Then all that happened, with respect for the sea, with respect. The sea does not want fear, it wants respect. And until now let’s say I can dive, for work, for this. We used to fish as well… Anyway…

Several personalities have linked their careers to scuba diving, drawing from their previous experience in the specialized forces of the naval military. Besides the iconic figures mentioned earlier, such as Nikos Kartelias, Periklis Liamis and Manolis Papagrigorakis, several other men made their names synonymous with the early phase of recreational diving history in

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Greece. Engaging in various aspects of diving, including education, equipment trading, recreational diving services, and institutional organization, their activities contributed to the consolidation of a new diving culture. This culture emphasized the safe enjoyment of the underwater world, transcending their initial diving origins in the naval forces. A New Ethos During the 1950s and early 1960s, the emerging Greek diving community witnessed a shift in cultural values, as the ideals of bravery and masculinity gave way to a focus on the safe enjoyment of the underwater world. For many years, scuba diving remained primarily a male domain. However, gradually, the perception that this type of diving required courage and physical strength began to weaken and lose legitimacy over time. While this perception has not entirely disappeared, it has been increasingly marginalized and delegitimized. With the rise of the tourist-oriented version of scuba diving, some of the male-centric characteristics that celebrated physical prowess as inherent to diving have retreated. Instead, they have been replaced by a modern more hedonistic and ethically sensitive relationship with the underwater nature and the act of diving itself (Allen-­ Collinson, 2010). As a result, more and more women have taken up diving, and they have spatial appearing as instructors or dive masters at diving centers in Greece, especially in recent years. The transcendence of the military culture with its emphasis on the physical abilities of men is crucial in order to understand the processes that have elevated scuba diving as a recreational activity. Equally important is the gradual transformation of scuba diving into a social mechanism for processing the embodied self and fostering a reflective relationship between the diver and both the technology and the underwater environment. This transition from a physical culture to recreation has also influenced the nature of military training in the naval forces to some extent. On the one hand, physical abilities, based on rigorous training such as running, swimming, and exercises, are not only seen as military skills but also as prerequisites for safe diving, regardless of its purpose and specific diving equipment (e.g., rebreathers). On the other hand, in these specialized military units, there are diving schools that adhere to established international training standards and common safety protocols. Successful participation in these training programs no longer solely relies on physical

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strength polished by strict military discipline but rather requires a minimum level of health and physical capabilities, similar to the criteria followed in recreational diving. Consequently, elements from recreational diving, particularly those related to body medicalization and the emphasis on safe diving practices, are now incorporated into the military training of submarine destroyers. The criteria and orientation have undergone significant changes, and there is no longer a strict gender-based segregation of physical abilities. As a result of this evolution, scuba diving as a recreational activity becomes associated with gender equality, promoted by the perception of being a pursuit with manageable physical demands and the ideology of safe diving that transcends traditional gender roles. The history of women’s involvement in scuba diving in Greece is a highly relevant aspect that sheds light on how this activity gradually transformed into a popular sport, partly through the process of being embraced as a legitimate sport. The integration of medicalization and a focus on safe practices has contributed to its democratization and an emerging sense of gender equality within the diving community. This transformation illustrates how scuba diving has evolved into a widely accepted and gender-inclusive sport through the process of sportization. Of course, in the Greek Navy, the space of special underwater forces (OYK) still remains inaccessible to women. It took several years for the twenty-first century to see the first participation of a woman in this domain of the Navy, and that was solely in the capacity of a specialized nurse, reinforcing all the traditional gender stereotypes that mediate the issue. The sportization of scuba diving aligns with entirely different ideological characteristics, mostly contrary to the military ethos. It is primarily an activity based on a “mindset” of reconnecting with nature and establishing a reasonable relationship with the real risks of navigating an unfamiliar biological world for humans, where even respiration becomes feasible through artificial means. Both men and women, the elderly, children, and individuals with disabilities can all experience the joy of underwater exploration. This gender dimension is reflected on the covers of recreational diving magazines worldwide, including Greece’s Ypovrychios Kosmos magazine. The frequency of photographs featuring female divers is much higher than the actual proportion of women engaging in diving. The presence of women in scuba diving functions, especially in the early stages, as a symbol

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of transitioning from a military-oriented ethos to the world of recreational sports. This apparent “discrepancy” between public image and reality is not solely related to the commodification of the female body, although such exploitation indeed occurs. A careful and longitudinal observation of the representation of women on these magazine covers reveals that as women engage more in scuba diving, the images of women featured on the front covers of specialized diving publications change. Gradually, the portrayal of the female body becomes desexualized and appears more “covered” by the diving suit. The gradual inclusion of women in the world of recreational diving, the increase in their numbers, and the emergence of the first female diving instructors are reflected in the way diving equipment usage is represented. The diving suit progressively covers the entire body, and initially visible décolletés become limited and gradually nearly disappear. Scientific theories concerning bodily practices in every society are interconnected with their social meaning, and they play a decisive role in their organization (Vigarello, 2001b). The theories regarding underwater bodily practices thus modify the very social meaning of diving. The applied knowledge of harnessing the body’s physical abilities and the development of a field for individual performance, encompassing both physical and mental aspects, gradually shifts the focus of interest toward the underwater world, encouraging practices of genuine exploration and recreation. The increasing emphasis on applied and codified scientific knowledge, simplified safety protocols, and the understanding of the body functioning under increased pressure, as well as risk management for recreational purposes, serves as a social mechanism-dispositif for a transition complete of scuba diving into the realm of tourism, a process that we will explore in detail in the next chapter, particularly in the case of Greece. The first significant step, however, in transitioning from the military domain to the field of recreation is the institutionalization of scuba diving as a sport. In this initial phase of transition, the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities played a crucial role.

The Sportization of Scuba Diving Scuba diving gradually transforms into a sport while continuing to be practiced within the military context, as well as for financial reasons. The process of sportization follows specific cultural processes and is subject to

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historically determined interventions by institutions, individuals, and groups. The theory of sportization of social activities in modern societies has been developed by Elias and Dunning (Coakley & Dunning, 2000; Dunning, 1971, 2004; Elias & Dunning, 1986), and represents a middle-­ range theory inspired by Elias’ figuration theory (Elias, 2000). Indeed, the evolution of scuba diving transforms from primarily a professional or military activity into a widely practiced recreational sport (Leslie, 2005). This shift toward recreational participation aligns with the concept of sportization proposed by Elias and Dunning, where activities progress from informal, loosely regulated practices to codified, structured sports. However, sportization is not a “necessary stage” in the history of scuba diving. As Spracklen (2011: 4) aptly argues, if we confine ourselves to a theoretical perspective of major stages in cultural evolution, we risk losing the ability to analyze the specific forms of transition from one model of social organization to another. Indeed, the sportization of scuba diving represents a distinct historical phase, with its particular characteristics, as evidenced in the case of Greece, which include: (a) The emphasis on competitive physical prowess gradually diminishes, promoting a more egalitarian perception of physical abilities (Dunning & Sheard, 1979). Diving becomes more accessible to the general public, irrespective of gender, age, and physical capabilities. (b) A crucial process in the sportization of scuba diving is the standardization of training and safety protocols. The formation of organizations like CMAS, NAUI, PADI, and EOUDA in Greece during the 1960s led to the establishment of standardized educational procedures and safety protocols, significantly reducing the risks of decompression sickness. This codification aligns with Elias and Dunning’s assertion that sportization involves the standardization and institutionalization of rules and procedures (Elias & Dunning, 1986). These regulations are increasingly globalized processes (Stovkis, 1992). (c) The standardization of training involves its professionalization, creating a body of specialists responsible for implementing the protocols and standardized educational processes. (d) A prevailing perception of safe diving is established, based on emotion control, rendering it a rationalized activity aimed at reducing unpredictability. Technological advancements in diving equipment,

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combined with a better understanding of the body’s functions in the hyperbaric environment of the underwater world, enhance the likelihood of safe diving. (e) The issue of violence may not be the most significant concern in the sportization of social leisure practices, such as recreational diving (Giulianotti, 2005; Stovkis, 1992). However, recent rising ecological sensitivities problematize violence toward fish and marine life in general. As behaviors become more controlled and ethically sophisticated, the introduction of ethical guidelines emphasizing respect for marine life and the environment, supporting ocean conservation and responsible diving practices, reflects aspects of sportization as described by Elias and Dunning (1986). In the following sections, we will observe these processes, emphasizing the institutional regulations that mediated the sportization of scuba diving. The Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities (EOUDA) Alongside the introduction of scuba diving within the special forces of the naval forces, the process of establishing institutions aimed at the sportization of underwater activities began. The Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities (EOUDA), as it is known today, was founded as the “Hellenic Federation of Recreational Fishing”—“HFRF”—in the 1952. Formally, its first statute was approved by the competent court on December 10, 1952. The founding members, as recorded in this initial statute, consisted of six organizations, five of which were oriented toward recreational fishing and one toward environmental conservation. Three were based in Attica, two on Crete, and one in Chalkida. As stated in Article 4 of its founding statute: The purpose of the Federation is to make every effort and coordinate the efforts of its members, based on current and international regulations, for the following: (a) The development and promotion of Recreational Fishing, including marine and freshwater fishing, underwater fishing, fishing with rod and line, and related activities. (b) The organization, approval, and supervision of local and Panhellenic competitions, the participation of club members in domestic and international competitions, and the drafting and approval of regulations governing the members and clubs according to the applicable laws. (c) The establishment of committees to adjudicate appeals,

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petitions, and appeals in the first and second instance filed by members and clubs. (d) The protection of marine life world through all legal means.

According to Article 4, the primary purpose of the federation is to establish a framework in which non-professional marine activities related to fishing, whether underwater or on the surface, are conducted under clearly formulated regulations within the context of clubs. Part of these activities has a competitive nature and can be carried out through local, national, and international competitions. This represents the first explicit formulation of a process of sportization for certain maritime-related activities. It is implied that a portion of these activities may be of an “amateur” nature, presumably as recreational and non-professional pursuits. The detachment of fishing from the realm of livelihood and its integration into the world of recreation is also in line with a seemingly paradoxical proposition: the protection of the “world of marine life.” With this statement, not only the marine animals themselves but also the environments in which they live are under the protection “by every legal means.” We can observe here, in the early post-war years, just three years after the end of the Greek Civil War, an early development of ecological consciousness. In this case, sportization aligns with the cultivation of environmental sensitivity, viewing nature as an object of enjoyment deserving protection. The nature-loving clubs of the interwar period had already fostered a similar sensitivity within middle class. The institutional regulation of marine activities incorporates this sensitivity into the world of recreational sports. Upon its establishment, the Greek Federation became a member of the International Confederation of Sport Fishing (Confédération Internationale de la Pêche Sportive, C.I.P.S.), which was founded on February 22, 1952. From the outset, the Greek Federation aligned itself with the global trend of developing recreational water sports. Like every sports federation, EOUDA had, from its inception, the structure of an organization with members consisting exclusively of clubs with the initial purpose of “promoting amateur fishing” or associations, institutions, and schools with the aim of “establishing fishing departments.” In 1954, the federation was officially recognized as a sports organization with the passing of Law 2890/1954, institutionally linked to the newly formed Council of Marine Sports (Simvoulio Thalassias Agonistikis, in Greek). In the following years, its members participated in international spearfishing competitions, forming a corresponding national team. The federation itself organized national spearfishing championships (the first in

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1956) and fishing competitions using fishing rods. By 1957, the federation already had 22 members—naval clubs, indicating the rapid development of recreational water sports and underwater activities. In 1959, the World Confederation of Underwater Activities (C.M.A.S.) was founded in Monaco, continuing the work of the Underwater Sports Committee (Comité des Sports Sous-Marins) of the International Confederation of Sport Fishing (C.I.P.S.). The subsequent Greek federation was one of its twelve founding members. This marked the turning point where the Greek Federation intensified its focus on the underwater world and scuba diving. It followed the international trend of the time, which saw a significant surge in the exploration of the depths and captured the attention of global audiences through the films of Jacques Yves Cousteau (co-founder and president of CMAS until 1973), as stated on their website (www.eoyda.gr). The EOUDA continues remain a key member of CMAS, and several of its members have been actively involved in various committees and bodies, such as the board of directors, the Apnea Committee, the Underwater Fishing Committee, and others. In 1960, the Greek Federation was officially renamed the “Hellenic Federation of Recreational Fishing and Underwater Activities.” The amended statute, as reflected in Article 2, introduced a series of new activities, emphasizing not only recreational fishing but also underwater photography, underwater excursions, diving with the use of underwater apparatus, underwater archaeological and scientific research, and overall research of the seabed. It further stipulated the promotion of an institutional organization and corresponding education “through the establishment of specialized schools to obtain degrees in free diving or for scuba devices and coaching diplomas for these sports.” The statute also provided for the drafting of guidelines and regulations and the publishing of relevant publications and annuals to monitor international developments in the field of underwater activities. In this updated version of the statute, particularly in Article 2, the fundamental aspects of the process of sportization of scuba diving are outlined. Simultaneously, the conditions for its integration into the world of recreation are shaped. As a result, the drive for standardization intensifies, becomes more explicit, and focuses on the field of training. The standardization of diver education and the certification of acquired skills constitute a major process of shaping scuba diving as a leisure activity on a global scale. The emphasis

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on underwater scientific research, underwater photography, and “underwater excursions” adds substance to this transition into the world of recreation. In 1962, the federation was officially renamed to “Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities and Fishing Sports.” Its name would undergo several modifications over time, reflecting the gradual inclusion of various aquatic sports activities for which it assumed responsibility at different times, such as technical (with fins or monofin) swimming for a period or, more recently, sports lifeguarding. Simultaneously, the federation sought to establish connections between scuba diving and research, scientific, and archaeological pursuits. As noted by a subsequent president, K. Kalatzis, “the Federation was at its beginning. It was exploring to find its identity. It engaged in various activities, including underwater archaeological research. Although it had limited resources and its knowledge and experience were insignificant or nonexistent, there was nothing else like it” (Kalatzis, 1990: 264). During the same year, the publication of Orion magazine begins, which will continue with 4–5 issues per year until 1971 (with the exception of 1964, due to financial reasons). This magazine became the first public space for the diving community, serving as a quality publication that depicted the developments in the field, which will be extensively discussed in the next chapter. In the Report of the President of the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities and Fishing (H.F.U.A.F.), which was submitted for approval at the general assembly on March 10, 1965, the achievements of the preceding quadrennium are presented. After discussing the development of the underwater activities sector, several noteworthy points are emphasized. These include the allocation of coastal space in Attica, with a small harbor designated for the federation’s headquarters, the generous funding received from the Hellenic Tourism Organization to construct new facilities, and the approval of financial support to host the World Underwater Activities Congress in Athens. Evaluating the significance of the underwater activities’ development for the “national sectors,” the following outline is provided (reprinted on page 7 of issue 14, March–April 1965, of Orion magazine) (Table 5.1): In this plan, the prospects of scuba diving and other underwater activities are outlined with great insight, forming four main sections. In the center, the emphasis is placed, in capital letters, on the aspect of sports, which may seem obvious for the leader of a sports federation. The

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Table 5.1  Source: Minutes of the Administrative Council of EOUDA, March 10, 1965 Underwater Policing Armed forces Seabed investigations

Sports – Youth preoccupation – Physical and Mental Exercise UNDERWATER SPORT New industries

Tourism Development Conquest of liquid space New professions

significance of youth sports is highlighted separately as crucial. On the other axis, we find the control of the depths and underwater activities related to the armed forces. This is a natural reference for an admiral, but it also underlines the pivotal importance of training divers even during that period. The third axis is focused on research and the “conquest” of the depths. We are in the era of the explorer Cousteau, still far from the dominance of ecological awareness. The fourth area is undoubtedly highly relevant: the development of underwater activities opens up new professional horizons and is directly related to the growth of tourism. However, the president did not specify the exact field where he envisioned the growth of this new industry; he did not provide us with details of his thoughts. Nevertheless, his prophecy was undoubtedly justified, as later a new industry, with branches also in Greece, would develop with the evolution of underwater activities. This is the diving industry, which includes diving tourism, equipment production, and standardized industrial training. However, it will take several more years for this to materialize. In 1966, the first Panhellenic Underwater Swimming Championship with scuba diving gear was held in a pool (in distances of 200 and 400 meters, individual and team). This marked a brief period during which scuba diving (both in competitive pools and in the sea) functioned as a pure competitive sport, as we have seen in the previous chapter, with the participation of women as well. However, it pertained to a very limited range of activities, as “competitive scuba diving,” even in the form of underwater swimming and orientation competition, contradicts its nature. It represented a culmination of the process of turning scuba diving into a sport, which, from the outset, despite the enthusiasm of the participants, would be restricted, giving way fully to “underwater walks,” as clearly described in the statutes of 1960.

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During the same period, the federation also fostered “Apnoeic Swimming,” which involved both men and women and served as a precursor to the future discipline of “technical swimming.” This underwater activity possessed distinct competitive characteristics and has survived to this day, recognized as an Olympic sport (under the auspices of CMAS), although it has not yet been included in the Olympic program. In 1969, during a period of military dictatorship (1967–1974), the impressive facilities at the coastal area of Agios Kosmas were inaugurated, making a remarkable contribution to the financing of the Hellenic Tourism Organization. These facilities included an aboveground swimming pool, equipped with technical tools to facilitate the training of divers, and interventions in the sea. Additionally, the nearby harbor was deepened, expanded, and protected with a breakwater. Scuba diving gradually became associated with tourism. Additionally, practices commonly seen in diving parks, such as shaping the seabed to make it accessible and usable for modern diving purposes, were applied for the first time at the facilities of the Greek Federation. The underwater world was gradually transformed into a recreational destination. As early as 1968, the federation organized a nationwide underwater photography competition, which gained significant popularity and participation for that era. Ten years later, in 1978, the federation hosted a Divers’ Congress at the Eugenides Foundation, aiming to initiate a public discussion about underwater activities. In 1983, the federation brought the Underwater Photography and Filmmaking Festival to Greece, showcasing the art of capturing underwater images and videos. In 1969, the federation established the School of Underwater Activities. The school formalized and expanded the process of formal training that the federation had initiated in 1959, which initially trained nine male divers. It is worth noting that in 1985, for the first time in Greece, the federation operated a Divers’ School in collaboration with students from the Departments of Physical Education and Sports Science (TEFAA), directly connecting sports studies with education in scuba diving. From that point onward and steadily until the official recognition by the state and other organizations besides CMAS, which the federation represents to this day, it was the one issuing every diving certificate granted in Greece. Whether directly or through affiliated private schools holding federation educational credentials, it established a monopoly that placed the federation at the forefront of domestic underwater activities, asserting its institutional dominance. Despite the prohibition of diving in Greece,

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except for exceptional cases related to antiquities, which we will examine in detail in the next chapter, scuba diving began to spread rapidly with the issuance of numerous certifications of all levels. At the same time, PADI and other major international organizations began to vie for a share of the certification market. These certifications were not recognized by the Greek Federation, but through legal dive clubs (which had instructors recognized by the Greek Federation), they issued certificates to tourists in summer resorts abroad and, at some point later, by the Greek state. This happened in 2005 when the new diving law was passed, which liberalized the market for scuba diving training. After this time, any internationally recognized provider of educational services could operate within Greek territory, primarily aiming at developing diving tourism. In recent years, the funding of the Greek Federation has significantly decreased, and its headquarters relocated to a limited space in the center of Athens. Consequently, its role in scuba diving has been drastically reduced, particularly in comparison to CMAS concerning mainly PADI and other international providers of certified training services. Scuba diving in Greece has now fallen under the control of private international diving giants. The Navy and the Federation From its inception, the federation maintained a profound connection with the naval forces (which were royal at that time). Numerous officers ascended to positions of leadership, becoming integral members of the federation’s administrative council. The navy wielded considerable authority, extending to maritime regulation and scuba diving operations. This included not only the development of an underwater demolition unit, but also the ongoing management of hyperbaric medicine practices, a responsibility that persists to the present day. In order to fully understand the federation’s objectives, it is paramount to consider the social makeup of its leadership group. The inaugural president, who served an extensive term until 1972, was the retired Rear Admiral Theofanis Voutsaras. Following the demise of Voutsaras in 1972, Admiral Konstantinos Skiadopoulos ascended to the presidency, serving until 1974. It was not until the termination of the military dictatorship in 1974 that a non-naval official was appointed as the president. Dr. K.  Kalatzis presided from 1974 to 1982, followed by

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Dimitris Siapatis from 1982 to 1995, representing the two presidents with the longest tenures. The interaction between the naval forces and marine leisure activities exhibits a more profound intricacy than its association with contemporary underwater endeavors. As early as 1903, the Faliron Marine Club, situated at the focal point of Attica’s maritime gateway, saw royal navy officials making significant contributions toward nurturing a “love for the sea” and advancing naval competitions (Koulouri, 1997: 311–313). Attempts at consolidating maritime sports predate the federation’s inception during the interwar period. However, these endeavors proved unsuccessful, owing to the scarcity of sports associations and a variety of sports that would form the catalyst for their institutional recognition (Fournaraki, 2010). Upon investigating this intimate relationship between naval forces and the institutional organization of scuba diving in Greece, questions arise as to how the very nature of scuba diving was influenced. One might anticipate that the transition from the hardy dives of special forces to underwater strolls and underwater scientific and archaeological research would have been delayed due to this guiding relationship. Furthermore, the federation’s initial steps were taken in a highly charged ideological climate. The civil war that broke out at the end of World War II, between the right and its transatlantic allies, and a leftist faction that was ideologically strong but left to its fate by the Soviet bloc as a consequence of the Yalta agreements, had only concluded in 1949. The persecution of leftists continued for years at all levels: incarcerations, exiles, tortures, control of all communication media, and so forth. On the other hand, movements of young people developed that were tied not only to the burgeoning values of consumerism but also to the struggles for democracy and equality (Papathanasiou, 2008). Given this heightened ideological climate, how did control by naval forces influence scuba diving? Upon perusing the pages of Orion, the official communication medium of the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities (EOUDA) from 1962 to 1971, we find almost no reference to the civil war, not even in the actions of the dictatorial regime. Studying the minutes from the administrative council meetings, we arrive at the same conclusion. Furthermore, in the context of the federation, scuba diving is not associated with a militaristic ethos. On the contrary, it is regarded as a respectable, modern activity, rich with promise in the fields of research, science, and archaeology. Scuba diving is conceived as an element of a technologically advanced future, a perfectly compatible activity for a country striving

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to modernize and steeped in the sea. This ideological backdrop might explain the exclusion of the domestic diving tradition of sponge fishing from public discussion within the pages of the Orion magazine. Sponge fishing, a profession of certain islander populations, rejects the values of science, sports, and exploration, and is immersed in the harsh daily reality of hunting for sponges. Moreover, the first Greek instructors, who came from the special forces of the army, all men from impoverished social strata in contrast to the federation’s leadership, were called to serve these new values. They were tasked with the paradoxical duty of educating an evolving mass of people using procedures largely based on the military ethos they had internalized to overcome the very tough tests of the frogmen corps, while adopting a perspective of exploration enjoyment and the ideology of controlled risk. This was facilitated by the institutional umbrella of the federation, under the auspices of a managerial elite with a liberal value orientation. Since scuba diving is associated with values that are compatible with liberalism, it is perceived as an activity perfectly aligned with the analogous tradition of the Greek naval forces, a sector traditionally reserved for the elites. The Navy, especially in the twentieth century, is characterized by its institutional nature and liberal tradition, and a certain elitism, far removed from the extreme nationalist expressions of other army domains. It is natural for the bourgeois world to emphasize the emerging new values (see analogous transformations in the field of alpinism in France, in Hoibian, 2000: 328–331). Thus, the emphasis on the value of science, marine research, and underwater archaeology is the institutional path through which the conjunction of a future-oriented outlook with the simultaneous incorporation of the country’s undeniably long-standing and strong maritime heritage is achieved.

Hyperbaric and Diving Medicine Diving and hyperbaric medicine also developed primarily in Greece through the Navy. Even today, the Navy continues to possess the basic infrastructure and medical expertise for handling accidents, treating almost all instances of decompression sickness, regardless of whether these pertain to military personnel, professional divers, recreational self-divers, or even tourists. In Greece, there were many cases of decompression illness that resulted in death or various forms and degrees of disability during the first three

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quarters of the twentieth century, mainly due to sponge diving and the extensive use of diving helmets in this activity (Olympitou, 2014: 217–306). However, until the end of the 1950s, there were no decompression chambers, even though there was knowledge about the etiology of these accidents and how they should be handled. That is, with as immediate treatment as possible in high-pressure chambers for the absorption of nitrogen bubbles created by the increased pressure environment in the body (nitrogen embolism, decompression sickness). The first hyperbaric chamber was installed on the Navy’s rescue ship “Sotir” in 1957 and could only treat one patient for as long as the ship’s engines were active. The procurement of this medical equipment was a result of the creation of the first special group of the Navy that included diving activities due to Greece’s entry into NATO, as mentioned above. The first multi-seat decompression chamber in the country was acquired, again on the initiative of the navy, in 1963 and was installed in the Naval Hospital of Piraeus. A similar multi-seat chamber was installed about ten years later in the Naval Hospital of Crete. In 1981, the chamber of the Naval Hospital of Piraeus was moved to the Naval Hospital of Salamis. Its scope of application was gradually extended to pathologies that were not exclusively related to diving (e.g., chronic osteomyelitis, diabetic ulcers, etc.). In 1997, the chamber was relocated again from Salamis to the Naval Hospital of Athens. The installation of the chamber in such a large hospital in the capital increased the number of patients using hyperbaric oxygen therapy, expanding the range of diseases associated with hyperbaric medicine. At the same time, the staffing needs of the Hyperbaric Medicine Unit increased, as well as the need for specialized training of the medical staff. As a result, in recent years, conferences, seminars, and educational programs have been organized within the framework of the continuing education of medical and nursing staff. In fact, since 1994, the Navy officially recognizes the specialty of hyperbaric and diving medicine, which had already been established in foreign countries, a specialty that has been widely recognized in Greece since 1991 (FEK 1679/17.12.2001). Recently, in 2009, hyperbaric-diving medicine was also extended to the private sector with a system of a multi-place chamber for twelve seated patients installed in Attica (Hyperbaric Diving Medicine Athens, https:// ykia.gr/ accessed on 25.7.2023). Thus, the care of diving accidents gradually became associated with common medical practices.

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Educational programs in hyperbaric medicine and “diving accidents” are no longer limited to the Navy. Academic educational bodies, such as the University of Thessaly, are training a population that includes not only specialists, doctors, nurses, and medical technical staff, but also the general public, scuba diving instructors, professional divers, and amateur scuba divers (https://learning.uth.gr/hyperbaric/ accessed on 25.7.2023). In recent years, several diving tourists have been hospitalized in chambers of the navy, after a diving accident, both in Crete and in Athens. Also, many diving centers are associated with recognized international providers of specialized diving medical services and accident prevention advice, such as DAN (Divers Alert Network, see www.dan.org). Thus, the evolution of hyperbaric-diving medicine reflects the transition from the military navy to the world of leisure and sports. The medicalization of diving is a specific aspect of the transformation of scuba diving at an international level from a demanding physical activity with practical purposes to a self-purpose leisure and adventure activity based on calculated risk (Ange, 2006; Bove & Davis, 2003; Dan Orr & Douglas, 2007; Edmonds et  al., 2016; Edmonds et  al., 1997; Rusoke-Dierich, 2018). The treatment of decompression sickness and preventive diving medicine utilize advanced technology as a form of symbolic and practical control of risk (Phillips, 1998). The enhancement of diving medicalization, the recognition of the importance of human physiology knowledge, in turn, presupposes a clear, stable, and scientifically grounded training program in diving practices, that only specialists and professionals, could implement.

Standardization and Professionalization of Scuba Diving Education The navy frogman school in the first phase, the training under the federation since 1959, the first legal private scuba diving schools in the mid-­1960s, and the later penetration of international providers of certified training in diving centers, shaped a new professional field in the first two decades after World War II. It was a field with prospects, but for a few. It was more about a circle of acquaintances who knew about each other’s existence and activities, feeling that they were pioneers of a new activity in the field of leisure sports. A continually expanding community, that of recreational divers, served as a symbolic space for reinterpreting the seabed as a place of pleasurable exploration using the most advanced technology.

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This was a new field in the realm of leisure, which had already gained worldwide publicity through the actions of significant people, most notably the Frenchman Jacques Yves Cousteau. During these first two decades, Greece followed the beaten path in order to achieve the institutionalization of scuba diving as a sport and as a leisure activity. The sportization process was based on standardization and the professionalization of training. Increasingly distanced from the military climate, leisure embraced underwater activities, among which was scuba diving. This transition was based on political and institutional regulations, as well as on the actions of people who foresaw professional prospects. Standardization Since 1959, when the first nine male divers were trained under the Greek Federation, a process of standardizing the training was intensified. After the initial stages, where according to both oral and written testimonies, improvisation dominated, where the training was largely based on the vague prototypes of the military navy’s frogmen, there were two main components of standardization: (a) the creation of training rules that followed the emerging international standards (based on learning techniques as well as physiology and physics of diving), and (b) certification. As mentioned in a contemporary manual written in Greek by a Greek scuba diving instructor, “Millions of certified divers around the world have been trained in exactly the same ‘canned’ way”, without considering changes in the educational field (Andreadis, 2000: 200). Greece, in general, followed the same path. The Greek Federation, as a founding member of the CMAS and a member to this day, adopted and enforced the standards and protocols (decompression tables, training methods, ways of maintaining diving equipment, etc.) that a series of pioneering countries in scuba diving had developed. In the initial phase, standardization was almost synonymous with the emphasis on the transfer of scientific knowledge through training. The physiology and medical aspects of diving, along with the use of advanced technoscientific applications, served as a practical and symbolic boundary of the new activity, distinguishing it from other forms of diving. The form and content of this type of training were inevitably linked to the values of diving as a sport recreational activity.

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Throughout this period, in the specialist press, in the Orion magazine circulating in the narrow circle of federation member clubs and from the early 1970s in the Ypovrychios Kosmos magazine, numerous articles were about scuba diving training. References to the operation of diving equipment and its maintenance, human physiology, and the physics of diving immersed readers in the “correct” relationship with the underwater environment. Advertisements for diving equipment, from Cousteau’s scuba gear (Aqua-Lung) that already appears in the first issue of the Orion magazine (1962, Vol. 1, p.  9), opportunities for dive tank refills, and education incorporate existing and primarily future divers into a culture that is completely in tune with international developments. The emphasis on activities such as underwater photography, diving travel experiences later on, and the consistent collaborations of the Ypovrychios Kosmos magazine with personalities, such as Paul Tzimoulis, a collaborator on Skin Diver Magazine and one of the pioneers in sport diving, reinforce the alignment with the forming international diving community and the forging of the new perspective with which the depths is viewed. A fundamental component of this culture is the standardization of education and the constant monitoring of divers’ knowledge. Already in issue 3, in July 1971, an extensive article titled “Want to become a diver? How to get trained” (pp. 32–36), which is also mentioned on the cover, is published. In this article, prospective divers are encouraged to become trained either under the umbrella of the federation (“hundreds of divers have received diplomas”) or at the only then recognized private school, of the first Greek frogman N. Kartelias. As stated on p. 32: Good training provides the diver with knowledge, skill, and confidence, ensuring safety and the best possible enjoyment in a fascinating environment.

The training, provided by former naval personnel, now aims at the safe enjoyment of underwater exploration. The domestic bible of scuba diving, the book of M.  Papagrigorakis “The Underwater Man” (1965), is republished in sections in the Ypovrychios Kosmos (Underwater World) magazine, in a series of issues, between. Absolutely compatible with this consolidation of the new ethos, is the series of publications in the form of multiple-choice quiz questions in the Ypovrychios Kosmos magazine entitled “Are you a good scuba diver?”

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Innovation is gradually devalued, as is improvisation. Nowadays, after the consolidation of the new ethos, as pointed out in a contemporary diving manual, standardization is directly linked to the ideology of safe diving. We are far away from the exaltation of the accomplishments of the pioneers, from the robust dives of the frogmen: […] Safe diving is the application of the total knowledge that has been acquired and even more, it is the prudent application of this knowledge. […] Especially in diving, standardization aims at the safety of the scuba divers: by choosing to learn the best way to perform a task during preparation or a skill, the diver has but to follow a clearly defined protocol that guarantees the minimization of risks and the methodical response to any emergency. […] With standardization, the movements of the trainee are specific and become an experience, so they can be automatically retrieved in case of need. (Andreadis, 2000: 90-92)

The standardization of training resulted in the creation of a skill certification market, which was shaped by needs but also by legal regulations and state policies. Interventions from various institutional centers, sometimes competitively, regulated the process of commodifying this new market, based on which a sense of professional development opportunities was established. In Greece, as elsewhere, the commodification and creation of the diving market, both in its symbolic and economic sense, is the result of broader regulations that mediate emerging competitions. The final major regulation with the law 3409/2005 (FEK, 273/Α/4.11.2005), at the beginning of the twenty-first century, is the final stage of these protracted processes, where the domestic professional diving community is incorporated into the global homogenized market of services, experiences, and emotions. Professionalization Scuba diving is not an exception to the broader professionalization of recreation, especially in areas where there is a high level of osmosis of technology and economy (Pronovost, 1997: 194–196). Today’s instructors play the role of the “cogwheel of the diving industry”, as they are the “connecting link between their students and the diving industry” (Andreadis, 2000: 199). Professionalization, through a technologization that only a small group could control and perform, is a common place in

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the post-war domain of recreation, particularly of outdoors activities (Hoibian, 2000). The first stage, following the organization of the frogmen school within the framework of the special forces of the navy, is training within the framework or under the auspices of the federation. This means that federation-­recognized instructors, almost all trained within the navy, train amateur divers either within the federation itself or in bodies recognized by it. The second stage is the creation of private schools. The entirety of the first private schools were founded and run by former frogmen who undertook the task of renouncing part of their military training in favor of cultivating the ideology of safe diving for the purpose of recreation. This institutional and social framework for the organization of the emerging diving community in Greece remained until the late 1970s, the three educational poles that increasingly came closer in terms of the content of diving education: (a) the “frogmen school” of the navy, (b) the federation with its member associations (from 1959 to 1976 only 517 individuals have been trained within the narrow framework of the federation, see the register of divers of EOUDA data of which is republished by the Underwater World magazine, issue 58, 1976, p. 19), and (c) the few private diving schools, which also operated as diving superstores (equipment trade, service, rental or filling of diving tanks, etc.). At that point in time, in the late 1970s, when a community of divers had already been formed, with its members embracing the basic values that reflected international diving practices, two factors determined the “national idiosyncrasy”: (a) the prohibition of diving by the Greek state, following the intervention of the Ephorate of Underwater Antiquities, and (b) the establishment of a diving training oligopoly. We will deal with the first factor, the ban on diving, in the next chapter, because the relationship between scuba diving and underwater antiquities is both pivotal and of broader significance, plus it has gone through various stages. At this point, emphasis will be given to the domestic oligopoly of diver training. However, it is worth noting that both of these inhibitory factors for an expansion of the diving market in Greece were abolished with immediate effect with a legislative intervention at the end of 2005 (FEK 273/Α/4-11-2005). An intervention that lifted the ban and fully opened the market for educational services. With the development of the diving market, a small number of certified instructors already available, with degrees recognized by the federation. However, from a certain point, a local “invention,” that of the dive coach,

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in line with a sports spirit but paradoxical for a recreational activity (what exactly does diver training consist of?), delineated the professional opportunities. The federation stopped issuing new dive coach diplomas or equivalent certificates, and therefore only the “old” instructors had the right to open diving schools. A typical Bourdieusian (Bourdieu, 1980a, 1980b, 1991b) practice of controlling newcomers, this strict policy resulted in reactions and the creation of a new association of Greek instructors, which pressed for and ultimately achieved, the reopening of the market, but only from the mid-1990s. The new association, comprised of experienced instructors with many hours of diving and training, claimed and organized multiple high-level instructor training schools, expanding the domestic diving community, reinforcing the value of safe diving based on knowledge. It is worth noting that during this period, remarkable and economically thriving companies manufacturing diving equipment (Greek brands), some of which still operate today, have developed. Notable is the Balco equipment manufacturing company, whose round masks can still be found in the market today, as well as the wetsuit tailoring industry of N. Kartelias’ company, which “dressed” hundreds of divers in suits adapted to their body type. The completion of the opening of the diving training market came in 2005 with the full liberalization of the recognition of amateur and professional degrees. At the same time, the official domestic vocabulary changed, as the concepts of education or training was replaced by that of “certification service provision”. The Greek Federation completely lost control, which was attributed to the globalized diving industry, with the full integration of related activities into the mainly tourist and fully commercialized flows.

The Ideology of Safe Diving This transition from oligopoly to full opening of the education market, despite the undeniable domestic peculiarities, conceals a deeper contradiction that defines the very character of scuba diving, as well as other related outdoor activities. Is scuba diving a sport or a recreational activity? Although the boundaries are blurred in many similar activities, the transition from the military, to the world of sports and then to that of recreation, finally into the tourism industry is largely determined by this structural contradiction. The oligopoly that was imposed in Greece for decades was based on the idea that it is a sport, even non-competitive, that

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nevertheless functioned as a recreational activity in a continuously expanding market. The dilemma continues to be posed to the present day. In many social networks, discussions are still alive, questions are raised and participants often give contradictory answers. The providers of certified education services themselves often ask questions and divers, men and women, readily answer (“Is Scuba Diving a Sport or a Hobby? https://blog.padi.com/ scuba-­diving-­sport-­or-­hobby/ 25.7.2023). There is no agreement in public dialogues; the contradiction about the nature of scuba diving still applies today. The answer to the question of whether it is a sport or a hobby is not clear. For many people, the lack of competition is not enough as an argument as many sports are also non-­ competitive, such as running, cycling, and swimming. Moreover, scuba diving can indeed be a demanding physical test under special conditions (e.g., very cold waters), it requires energy (calorie consumption…) and definitely presupposes good physical condition. On the other hand, even the institutionalization of Sport Diving by the CMAS (in a similar to with the Greek Federation in the late 1960s) does not seem to be related to recreational diving, as it refers to a “set of individual or group competitive events, which need technical, tactical and specific psycho-physical conditions, based on scuba diving abilities, skills and equipment, developed in a swimming pool, regulated and institutionalized within by the Underwater Activities” (https://www.cmas.org/sport-­ diving/about-­2012032624). Recreational diving is not exactly a sport. Indeed, as mentioned in public internet dialogues, scuba diving is interpreted as “relaxing and exhilarating”, “it becomes very exciting” but finally “it’s easy,” as the ideal is achieving “neutral buoyancy near coral reefs”. In any case, “it’s about breath not depth” according to the words of a diver in a similar public dialogue. From this perspective, which dominates in the world of recreational diving and the tourism industry, what takes precedence in every case, something that characterizes this activity, is safe enjoyment. The diver is not an underwater runner, does not compete with anyone else. The recreational scuba divers collect experiences, and although diving requires a minimum physical effort, it always has the priority to return safely. To achieve this, safety protocols set a series of prerequisites, educational, technological, technical, practical but also social. The diver, a member of an emotional community (Murphy et al., 2000) that shares the same passions and seeks the same experiences, must dive with others who are perceived as companions and partners and not as

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competitors. The safety imperative dominates almost entirely in recreational diving, especially in its tourist version, which feeds a special economic sector, often referred to as the dive industry. The ideology of safety seems to ultimately define the dominance of sports and leisure, setting the limit of these two elements that determine recreational diving, separating its modern form from its military past. Thus, since 1960 onward, in Greece as well as in many countries of the Western world during the same period, for a man or a woman to engage in scuba diving, the prerequisite is not physical abilities but the knowledge of the physiology of the human body under hyperbaric conditions and training in techniques that make it exploitable. The prerequisite for scuba diving is no longer physical strength, sculpted with the military discipline of special forces, but a minimum percentage of health and physical abilities and a “mentality” based on the care for the safe enjoyment of the seabed and marine life. The care for controlled risk-taking, in contrast to military culture, turns into a relationship with the self, in an ethos-technique of self that serves as a guide for negotiating the relationship of the diver with the aquatic life and with his body under the surface of the sea. Each dimension of training is also a point of application of this self-technology (Foucault, 1984a), which is in line with both the aestheticization of the underwater nature and the later environmental concerns. The hedonistic recreation dominated in post-war societies, turning the body into a source of marketable experiences (Miles, 2021). Adventure sports, radically different from competitive sports, is a broader framework within which scuba diving emerges as an organized practice. It is a new world, within which a multitude of tools for processing oneself is shaped, an enterprise of self-determination. The social paradigm of reasonable risk management is implemented here through an enjoyable exercise of reflective immersion in the seabed but also in subjectivity itself. Safe diving as an ideology serves these broader social imperatives of reflective, reasonable, and controlled relationship with the self, based on a medical representation, as the body becomes perceived as subject to the laws of physics. Human physiology is transformed into a mechanism for making the individual responsible for his own body, for the good condition and integrity of which he must constantly care. It is the modern prerequisite for the formation of the underwater world as a place of consumption of multisensory experiences.

CHAPTER 6

Underwater Phantasmagoria: The Touristization of Scuba Diving

[…] the new forms of behavior and the new economically and technologically based creations that we owe to the nineteenth century enter the universe of a phantasmagoria. These creations undergo this “illumination” not only in a theoretical manner, by an ideological transposition, but also in the immediacy of their perceptible presence. They are manifest as phantasmagorias. Walter Benjamin, Expose ‘of 1939’, in The Arcades Project, Harvard University Press, 2002, p. 14.

These days, sea depths are considered as phantasmagoric places offering profound multisensory experiences. These locations form an integral part of the intricate, globalized tourism industry. The present discourse pivots on specific institutional arrangements and socio-cultural processes that have catalyzed the commodification of scuba diving, thereby positioning it as a popular recreational and holiday practice. By examining the case study of Greece, this chapter underscores the incremental transformation in perceptions and practices. These transformations are inextricably linked with institutional measures that have amplified the understanding of the marine environment and the seas at large as sites of corporeal rejuvenation and the genesis of gratifying experiences. The initial military and economic capitalization of novel technoscientific implementations that facilitate independent underwater breathing have segued into perceiving scuba © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Tzanakis, Scuba Diving Practices in Greece, Leisure Studies in a Global Era, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-48839-9_6

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diving first as a sport, subsequently a leisure activity, and ultimately as a distinct form of tourism. This progression is facilitated by emergent social representations of the subaqueous environment and concurrent transformations in the field of self-performative practices. Nevertheless, it is contingent upon both international and domestic interventions, as well as legislative stipulations that delineate the boundaries of such metamorphoses. The process of spatial regulation, transitions within the domain of subjectivity, and the adoption of a new gaze through which we perceive the sea depths, constitute the nexus of the procedure of tourism-oriented transformation of diving activities.

Phantasmagoria of the Depths The underwater phantasmagoria emerges as the seawater, its boundless body, is transformed in the collective imagination. The sea ceases to be a casing for human activities, a medium for navigation, a focus of concern, and sometimes even fear. From a certain point in time onward, it becomes a fascinating place, an “exotic elsewhere” filled with potential surprises and secrets to be discovered. A shift undoubtedly guided by social regulations. If the phantasmagoria of the depths in late capitalist modernity is linked to intense commercialization of diving practices, it also aligns with the forging of a new gaze that directs underwater exploration, compatible with modern practices of self, with the type of embodied subjectivity that prevails in our times. In the 42nd issue of the fall 1978 edition, an article is published in the magazine Ypovryhios Kosmos, titled “The Underwater Landscape” (pp.  34–35). It is a text focused on underwater geology, on how the oceans and continents were formed. In a frame, at the top of the right hand page, in an extensive anonymous caption, the significance of understanding the geological phenomena that created the magnificent underwater landscape is emphasized, stating the following: Great is the pleasure of the diver when he finds himself in the underwater environment, facing the magnificent and diverse formations and the multitude of fish. And indescribable is his enthusiasm when he brings to the surface some living creature or some historical work of art from a shipwreck. Many dive as ‘tourists’, others to fish, others to discover abandoned shipwrecks, others to collect shells or fish for aquariums, and others for various scientific purposes. They are all bold and brave. And superhuman, insofar as

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they dive knowing that they will encounter a bunch of ‘difficulties’. It is not enough that the divers are armed with spears or knives and guns for their safety in the darkness of the sea and the loneliness of the boundless, unexplored underwater creation. They are also endowed with intelligence, with cunning and readiness of spirit. They are agile, skillful, and able to apply tricks, depending on the place and the type of prey they pursue. People of every profession, art, and science descend to the depths of the seas. The charm of the sea literally sucks people in. By the thousands, the divers bring from the depths their trophies: not only treasures but also valuable knowledge that reveals the secrets of the sea. It is worth taking a look and seeing the depths of these oceans from a new perspective. (p. 35)

In these lines, indicative evidence of a transitional period where the past and future blend into an amalgam of confused representations, the transformation of the seabed into a phantasmagoric place of delightful exploration is vividly captured. The divers are brave. In fact, something much more, “superheroes.” But not in the purely military sense of frogmen. They are brave because they are ready to face challenges, armed with knives, spearguns, and physical abilities, but most importantly with the knowledge of how to cope with the unexpected. It is this knowledge that they rely on to face possible challenges in order to satisfy their curiosity about the bottom of the seas. The divers love the very depths; they love to dive. They do not seem to worry yet so much about the consequences of human interventions. That is why fishing using scuba gear seems natural to the author of the text. It is one of the goals of scuba recreational diving, regardless of the fact that it is something already prohibited by law. This ambiguity in public discourse will continue throughout the first half of the 1970s, when even the front pages of the underwater world depict scuba divers with spearguns. Also today, this practice, fishing using scuba gear, is not considering completely unusual. However, aside from being illegal, it has been entirely delegitimized within the globalized community of divers. Alongside this purpose of fishing, a plethora of other objectives are identified: scientific research, shell collection, or simply underwater exploration. “Many dive as tourists.” In this short phrase, which the author of the text places in quotation marks—a characterization that is precise and peculiar at the same time, lies the deeper transformation that definitively brings scuba diving into the realm of leisure, preparing the ground for its touristization. The majority of modern divers, in Greece as well as around

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the world, dive for the purpose of enjoyment, having become underwater travelers. The conceptualization of diving is now based on the semantic magma of tourism. Far from the achievements of the pioneer frogmen, surpassing the paradox of competition in a quasi-sporting activity where safety is paramount, the depths are transformed into a phantasmagoric world of opportunities for delightful multisensory embodied experiences. The depths, a “magic” world, feeding a blue visual panorama that has inundated the media for decades, invites us to taste its saltiness, to feel its coolness on our skin, to enjoy the sight of its living treasures. Access to this beyond-the-ordinary world now presupposes the purchase of a series of services and materials. Phantasmagoric Perception of the Depths The concept of phantasmagoria has a long history in the Marxist tradition and in neo-Marxist theoretical currents. It originates from the concept of commodity fetishism. According to Marx, a commodity does not merely have a use value, but also has metaphysical and theological extensions (Marx, 1990). When the practice of diving and the depths of the sea are integrated into the tourist industry, it is logical for it to acquire, in addition to its use value as a service for consumption, a metaphysical envelope, a plethora of symbolisms. References to the magic world of the depths found at the source of the discourse of the globalized diving community feed and are fed by these symbolisms, shaping a phantasmagoric underwater reality. Adorno referred to phantasmagoria to criticize the ideological dimension of the emerging cultural industry of the twentieth century, considering that the intensity of its ideological dimension was such that culture, rather than enlightenment, operated as illusion. Adorno argued in his works that the culture industry distracts individuals from confronting the underlying contradictions of capitalism. Adorno saw this cultural phenomenon as perpetuating a false consciousness and preventing individuals from recognizing the true nature of their social, economic, and political reality (Adorno, 2001, 2009). This perspective is essentially synonymous with ideology as a false consciousness. Underwater exploration in the magical depths, as a Wagnerian dimension of “fermentation,” unifies the senses into a collection of multisensory delight that tends toward the oceanic regression of eternal tranquility (Adorno, 2009).

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In contrast, Walter Benjamin employed the term “phantasmagoria” in a more transformative manner. Unlike Adorno, the emphasis is not on concealing contradictions but on the contribution of phantasmagoria to the expansion of commodifying aspects of aesthetic life (Buck-Morss, 1992). Phantasmagoria permeates the way we relate to the world, including nature itself (Cohen, 1989). Phantasmagoria, a product of capitalistic culture and the relationship it establishes with nature and various human artifacts, is the way modern individuals see what they do, what they are, and what surrounds them, a reality that never fully disengaged from mysticism (Buck-Morss, 1991). According to Benjamin, in his often unfinished and sometimes at least contradictory writings, complete liberation from it does not seem to be achievable, and is perhaps not even desirable (Cohen, 1989). The mysticism of the world, specifically of the underwater nature, is an enjoyable exploration into an artificially enchanted realm that increasingly captivates more and more people. The representation of the depths as a place of exploration, as flânerie where diver-explorers enjoy the exploration itself, is connected with its gradual transformation into a phantasmagoric field of seeing and sensation. What leisure divers adopting the tourist gaze (Urry, 1990) see is not a movement from one place to another, but an internal experience of changing position within a constantly shifting human geography. The phantasmagoria of the depths is thus a continuously changing and enriching visual analogy linked to the expectation of seeing what is expected to be seen: the blue, the corals, the fish, and the underwater plants. The distinguished sites of diving symbolism, such as the Maldives, Seychelles, the Red Sea, the shark-infested waters of Australia, and the rich ecosystems of Asian oceans, symbolically condense this expectation with the realistic possibility of its affirmation. The dialectic of phantasmagoric seeing (Back-Mors, 1991; Benjamin, 2002) makes the depths a palimpsest of discoveries for the self and the external natural world, viewing the depths as a passage to limited-time experiences. The commodification of this vision relies on the belief, entrenched in the general public, that such temporary “readings” are feasible, something that constitutes a symbolic precondition and result at the same time for their commodification. The shaping of the underwater panorama as a courtyard of wonders is a long process in which the media—specialized magazines, cinema, television, the internet—have played a central role. All of us have dived into the waters of the Caribbean; have encountered sharks; have seen the blue of

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the ocean body, the clear waters of the Greek islands, and the splendor of the colors of the coral reefs, through mental journeys guided by the media. For example, J-Y. Cousteau’s writings (Cousteau & Dumas, 1953; Cousteau & Dugan, 1963, 1965), his documentaries, and the explorations of his team compose a set of ideas and practices that are one of the most significant cultural products of Western civilization (Lukasz, 2015). Initially a researcher, then an ecologically sensitive archaeologist and nature lover, he defined the way we see the sea and its depths: as a fragile nature that deserves to be admired, respected, and simultaneously understood as a witness to human history. Filled with shipwrecks and traces of ancient civilizations, a source of life itself. In order to present the process of commercialization and touristization of scuba diving in Greece, I utilize the concept of phantasmagoria as a tool. I believe that its rich semiotic potential (Berdet, 2013) facilitates the decoding and description of the basic characteristics of the evolution of recreational diving in Greece. In this regard, when I refer to the phantasmagoria of the depths, I focus on the following: (a) On the way people interpret the depths, referring to common ideas-images, i.e., what is fluid and simultaneously active in the field of everyday life collective representations of the underwater world. It becomes a spectacle, aesthetic apparition, a dream determined by “the economic conditions under which a society exists” (Cohen, 1989: 100). (b) On the depths as socially shaped, institutionally regulated, and commercialized water/landscape, i.e., as a space within and upon which ideas-images are activated. An expanded space for exploration and experience that emerges from this exploration. (c) On the particular gaze adopted by recreational divers and professionals, toward the depths but also toward what they do, as they carry out underwater tours. (d) On the depths as a field of lived, embodied multisensory experiences and emotions, where the shaped emotional economy and corresponding sensory regime feed the magma of meanings about the relationship between human and nature. (e) On the potential alternative perspectives and experiences that arise during underwater tours, sometimes at an individual level at the time of the dive, but mainly over time.

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Benjamin perhaps does not use the Greek word “πλέω” (I sail) by chance when referring to the experience of phantasmagoria in an early version of it, as a state that is consistent with flânerie (“There were pleoramas—πλέω, ‘I sail, I go by water’”, Benjamin, 2002: 527). Moving in the fluid space of the constantly evolving new images from the movement of water, the sea wanderer watches the shadows alternate with the bright spaces, continually expecting a new marine creature to stimulate his perception of the real, to make it more interesting. The aura that is lost from industrial civilization lies in wait here, ready to emit its energy to reveal some of the supposed hidden secrets of the oceans. Many of these features of late Western culture are reflected in the development of underwater recreational exploration. If the outdoor sport activities were the equivalent of the arcades of the Baudelairean City according to Benjamin, the abyss would be the most interesting arcade, a constantly available Passage into the worlds of mysteries. The crypt with the most secrets, the richest courtyard of wonders, the place where some gods are still alive, the still enchanted place where the possibilities for surprises and reversals multiply as much as anywhere else. The shadows from the depths lie in wait; sometimes the force of the water brings them ashore, witnesses to a world that the average diver knows they will never know themselves. Only their limits can they taste: 20, 50, 60 meters deep? Few, with special equipment and special training can exceed these depths, exploring with their tranquility these dark areas. A world full of images-fragments that activate—or are believed to activate—unexpected experiences. The emergence of the phantasmagoria of the abyss as an element of the imaginary of late capitalist modernity did not naturally arise from a physical evolutionary process. If history is something irreversible but also decisively influenced by unprecedented events (Buck-Morss, 1992), a series of creating ruins as a prerequisite for the creation of new conditions (Benjamin, 2016), what is destroyed and what must be built is a constant major stake. In our case, apart from the outdated beliefs and the obsolete practices, we have another reality of ruins that acted and continues to act on the evolution of diving, the maritime antiquities at the bottoms of the Greek seas. These ruins, submerged and vanished for years, guided the way in which scuba diving was seen as a modern practice in Greece. Time capsules of lost lives, they constantly reveal, through contentious semantic assemblies, fields of symbolic conflicts, a whatever has remained from the wear of time and the corrosive power of water is made known to the

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people of the surface. Sometimes, with only the suspicion of their existence or the mystery of their disappearance, the maritime antiquities continue to colonize the imaginary, like the sunken Atlantises. Even today, the underwater ruins decisively influence the gaze with which contemporary divers view the underwater world.

Maritime Antiquities in Greece: A Journey From Research Celebration to Diving Prohibition In Greece, the underwater phantasmagoria has been decisively influenced by the relationship between maritime antiquities and scuba diving. It is a relationship that is constantly intense, a source of interest but also of concerns, which, according to a Greek expression, “has passed through forty waves.” It was inevitable. The remnants of previous civilizations hauntingly affect the present of the newer ones. They are found everywhere in the Greek seas (see Photo 6.1), often so shallow that even a child with

Photo 6.1  Scattered ancient ruins on a popular swimmers’ beach of a coastal city. Photo by the author

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only a mask as equipment can approach them (see Photo 6.1). The piles of memorialized remnants on land, the sunken ships of then and now on the seabed, are a consequence of the inevitable evolution that creates them, nostalgic past versions of the collective self at the time, haunting the present the very moment that the future pushes unbearably forward (Benjamin, 2016). Shipwrecks constitute a classic field of archaeological intervention and contemplation (Throckmorton, 1969), especially in the basin of the Mediterranean with its long-standing maritime tradition (Parker, 1992). Specifically, in a nation-state like Greece, which invokes antiquity and its remnants to establish the connection with the Ancients in order to shape the current identity, the sunken ruins of the past are evaluated by the contemporaries as being of vital importance. The specialized archaeological services, as is natural, play a pivotal role in these mediations, forbidding, allowing, sometimes encouraging interface with the past (Photo 6.2).

Photo 6.2  A child touches the remnant of an ancient column, at a depth of 5 meters and a distance of 40 meters from the main beach of a small town in Crete. Photo by the author

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As Hamilakis argues, modern Greece occupies a unique position in the Western imagination. It is placed at the center of it, as the direct heir and manager of the classical past. At the same time, being a small, economically weak state with little political influence, it is objectively positioned on the periphery of the modern world. The existence of antiquities, their very materiality, interacts on the one hand with archaeological practice and on the other with the constantly reshaping national imagination that fuels the respective present collective identity. The archaeological construction of monumental landscapes, such as the Acropolis, and generally the activity of archaeology (as a service or as the activity of the mythical forms of archaeological research) from the first half of the nineteenth century up to the present day, nourishes with symbolic material historical versions of nationalist ideology (Hamilakis, 1991). It is therefore inevitable that the maritime antiquities, sections of submerged coastal cities, shipwrecks, airplanes that have fallen into the sea, and the entirety of the ruins located at the depths of Greek seas continue to constitute a constantly present materiality of critical importance for management. This reality is reflected in the history of underwater archaeology (Kritzas, 1978, 1988; Theodoulou, 2011a, 2011b), both in Greece (Bullitt 1963; Throckmorton, 1971; Throckmorton, Tsouchlos & Agourides, 1999) and more broadly in the Western world (Bass, 1966; Foley & Mindell, 2002; Theodoulou, 2011a; Throckmorton, 1970). In Greece, in particular, we can distinguish the history of the relationship between maritime antiquities and scuba diving into four periods: (a) Prehistory: This refers to the first period, from the beginning of the nineteenth century until the end of the 1950s, when the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities (EOUDA) was established. During this time, interest in maritime antiquities was shaped before the existence of scuba diving. (b) The Period of Willingness to Explore the Depths: This period spans from the establishment of EOUDA until the mid-1970s. The scientific and archaeological exploration of the seabed became a primary objective of EOUDA. Despite few underwater archaeological explorations taking place, the heads of diving institutions viewed underwater archaeological research as an opportunity to enhance the allure of scuba diving. (c) The Period of Prohibition: This is perhaps the most peculiar condition in the Greek history of scuba diving. The establishment of the

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specialized state agency responsible for maritime antiquities resulted in a ban on scuba diving in Greek seas, except for specific exceptions. ( d) The Period of Visitor Management: This pertains to the current period, beginning with legislative intervention at the end of 2005, when almost all bans and restrictions were lifted. Under this legislative intervention, scuba diving is defined as a tourist product, and the responsible archaeological services were forced to change roles. Now, they have assumed the duty of managing the crowds of scuba divers-tourists visiting newly created underwater museums, accessible underwater archaeological sites of marine interest, and several shipwrecks around which diving was allowed.

Maritime Antiquities and Scuba Diving: The Prehistory According to Theotokis, the first known retrieval of significant importance of antiquities in recent years was carried out in 1802 in Kythira. It involved the retrieval of some sculptures of the Parthenon that were found at the bottom of the sea when the ship Mentor was wrecked. The ship was used by Lord Elgin to transport the sculptures to England. The successful recovery was undertaken by sponge divers from Spetses and Kalymnos (Theodoulou, 2011b). Divers led by Captain J.-Y. Cousteau later visited the remains of the ship in 1975. Subsequent investigations were also carried out later, from the 1980s onward, when the specialized Greek services for underwater antiquities had been created (Theodoulou, 2011b). In the first half of the nineteenth century, the interest in maritime antiquities was reflected in the early legislative regulations of the newly established Greek state, with legislative regulation of 1934 (Law 10/22-5-1834). It explicitly states in Article 62 that “All ruins or other objects of antiquity found on national land, under it, or at the bottom of the sea, in rivers and public streams, in lakes or marshes, regardless of name, are property of the state.” Later statutes, such as that of 1899 (Law VXMST/1899 “On Antiquities”) and 1932 (which codifies the newer 1899 legislation related to antiquities), reaffirmed the state’s ownership of all antiquities located not only in the sea but also in any form of wetland. It is worth noting that the law of 1934 served as a framework for the protection of underwater antiquities until June 2002, when it was replaced by

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Law 3028/2002, “For the Protection of Antiquities and, in general, Cultural Heritage” (FEK 153A/28.06.2002). The first substantial underwater research with an archaeological aim was conducted in 1884 by the then-young archaeologist Christos Tsountas (who did not dive), in the strait of Salamis, with the purpose of locating remains of the historical naval battle. The operation was not successful (Theodoulou, 2011b). Throughout the nineteenth century, random hauls occurred when statues and various other mainly bronze objects became entangled in fishermen’s nets (Theodoulou, 2011b). A decisive moment, symbolically significant for the history of underwater archaeology in Greece, was the discovery and retrieval of part of the cargo of the famous shipwreck of Antikythera (Kaltsas et  al., 2012a, 2012b). It was the first successful underwater operation with an obvious archaeological aim (Theodoulou, 2011b). Dodecanesian sponge-divers, from the island of Symi, returning from the northern coasts of Africa, stopped at the small island of Antikythera. Diving with diving helmets searching for sponges, they accidentally located the remnants of a Roman-era shipwreck from the first century BCE, which carried a multitude of Greek sculptures and various objects. After notifying the Greek authorities, the sponge-divers, with the assistance of the navy, hauled a plethora of bronze and marble statues and objects. Many of these are exhibited today in the National Archaeological Museum. This shipwreck would later be visited, in 1976, by Captain Cousteau’s mission, where, with the assistance of the Ministry of Culture, they would haul up statues and other objects. The research continues at regular intervals until today (Kourkoumelis & Tourtas, 2020), using now the most advanced diving technology (Kaltsas et  al., 2012a, 2012b; Kourkoumelis & Theodoulou, 2005; Tourtas et al., 2016). However, despite the promising onset of the century, underwater archaeological research in the deep proved to be rather challenging with the means available at the time. Thus, in the years to follow, until the mid-­ twentieth century, the investigations are restricted to the study of harbor works and coastal sunken remains (Theodoulou, 2011b). Apart from the bountiful harvest of findings of significant archaeological importance, the discovery of the “Antikythera Mechanism” is of critical significance. It stands out not only for its representation of the Ancient’s scientific ingenuity but also for its function as a symbol of underwater archaeology in Greece. It is a kind of early computer, an ancient artifact, that functioned as an analog instrument for astronomical observations and

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bears similarities to a highly complex horological mechanism (Kaltsas, 2012; Kaltsas et al., 2012a, 2012b; Lazou, 1994). Owing to the importance of the findings, and particularly that of the “Mechanism,” the Antikythera wreck serves as a distinguished place (Micoud, 1991) for maritime archaeology in Greece, imparting symbolic prestige beyond the country’s borders (Weinberg et al., 1965). It is indicative that in the summer of 2023, the story of the discovery of the Antikythera Mechanism was released in comic form (Tourtas, 2023). Within its pages, written by a highly educated diver and a Ph.D. in the field of cultural heritage and underwater archaeology, we find the succinct and dramatically represented narration of the discovery. It is interesting to note that on page 17 of the said comic, the diving technology of the era, the diving helmet, is detailed. On the next page, the process of the dive is depicted, the first encounter with fragments of statues, which the terrified diver, according to the comic, confuses with body parts (Tourtas, 2023: 16–17). Through these representations of the seabed, which include the fragments of ancient civilizations hosted within, the underwater research, and the dive itself as a process, the phantasmagoria of the seabed is gradually shaped as an integral part of the contemporary imaginary. The familiarization with underwater activities acclimatizes the uninitiated to the depths, reinforces the belief that it is an exciting field, a watery realm (Tourtas, 2020) that beckons toward discoveries. A perception that will be strengthened in the following period, with the establishment of the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities, which will include in its goals the exploration of the seabed. It is the era of the conquests of the depths. The Desire to Explore the Depths Roughly ten years after the establishment of the federation, the decision is made to publish the first magazine in Greece focused on underwater activities. The magazine Orion, as it will be named, is published as the official periodical of the federation in 1962. It will circulate regularly, every two months at first, then every three months later, until 1971 (Photo 6.3). In the inaugural issue of the publication, the first article, which immediately follows introductory pages detailing the federation’s activities and an editorial entitled “Our Bulletin,” is dedicated to the subject of underwater archaeology. It is a text based on the reprinting of a speech by the general secretary of the federation, Sterios Fasoulakis, to students of the

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Photo 6.3  Cover page of the first issue of the magazine Orion, January 1962

Hellenic College of Athens, which had taken place two years earlier. The title of the article is “Archaeological and Historical Research in the Greek Depths” (Fasoulakis, 1962a). Thus, from the beginning, a federation that takes on the institutional role for the promotion of scuba diving and related marine activities incorporates into its new perspective of the depths the submerged ruins of past civilizations. It is an early conjunction of marine antiquities and

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recreational diving. As Fasoulakis characteristically states, describing what a spearfisherman might encounter under the water’s surface: Looking for sea urchins and octopuses, snappers and groupers, it is not impossible to find an amphora somewhere on the seabed, a vessel that the ancients used for transporting wine or oil, olives or legumes. From that moment, he becomes an archaeology enthusiast. And do not find it strange. Our homeland, surrounded by sea, had many coastal cities since ancient times, and ancient ships plowed the surface of the water. Thus, its depths also hide a multitude of ancient objects, either from shipwrecks or from sunken parts of the land. (Fasoulakis, 1962a, p. 5)

The article takes as its starting point the significance of “underwater research” more broadly (Fasoulakis, 1962a: 4). The author informs readers about various research activities concerning underwater antiquities around the world, as well as his public interventions in local newspapers in Greece. He refers passionately to Cousteau and his team (including reference to the film The World of Silence), early-century research in Antikythera and other locations with the assistance of Dodecanese sponge divers. He also informs the public that “the Maritime Museum, with the help of the Naval General Staff and related associations, is already planning underwater research in various parts of Greece” (Fasoulakis, 1962a: 6). This is portrayed as a wondrous new world, filled with marvels, including the secrets of past generations nestled in sunken ships or scattered objects that were lost at sea. The article’s conclusion mentions that the next issue will feature a comprehensive catalog of underwater archaeological investigations conducted during the previous year (1961). This phantasmagoric conception of the depths of Greek waters is depicted on page 6 of this inaugural issue, with the publication of an unsigned painting by an unknown artist. The caption informs us only of the thematic subject of the image, described as “The Gallery of the Depths”. In this painting amidst rich marine flora, an amphora emerges. Although slightly broken, it retains its shape, becoming part of the underwater landscape that recreational divers will explore (Photo 6.4). This is also evidenced by the layout of the seventh page, where, above the painting, a commercial advertisement promotes the “helmet Cousteau-­ Gagnan.” It stands as a testament to the early commercialization of scuba diving, as well as an aspiration to follow in the footsteps of global underwater exploration. Dominating the center of the advertisement is a diver

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Photo 6.4  Page 7 of the first issue of the magazine Orion, 1962

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equipped with the well-known Aqua-Lung, ready to descend to the lower part of the page, to touch the amphora, to enjoy the spectacle of human wreckage intertwined with marine flora, and to explore the watery volume with its hidden secrets. On the cover of this magazine (Photo 6.3), which will remain the same or undergo minor variations for approximately two-thirds of the issues (during its circulation, the responsible parties experimented with different layouts and photographs), a similar composition filled with symbolism presides. An amphora is situated behind a trident, the symbol of the sea god Poseidon, but also a tool for fishermen. The two omegas in the title Orion also resemble both tridents and amphorae. These artistic choices collectively allude to the connection between the depths of the Greek seas and the past of ancient Greek civilization. In the second issue of the Orion magazine, S.  Fasoulakis (1962b) indeed presented the research conducted by the “Underwater Research Team” of EOUDA, in collaboration with three foreign archaeological missions (one from Germany, and two from the USA) and the results of this research. What is more interesting, however, is another article by the president of the federation, Admiral Th. Voutsaras, which precedes and is titled “The Museum of the Depths” (Voutsaras, 1962). The title itself testifies to the connection of the depths of the Greek seas and the ancient Greek past, as evidenced by the plethora of existing underwater antiquities. An affinity, however, that is achieved under the modern and sufficiently contradictory umbrella of scientificity and the perception of diving on the one hand as a sport and on the other as a leisure activity, under an indefinite and ambiguous trend of modernization: Diving with a scuba gear is indeed a huge advance. It gives the underwater swimmer [katakolimvisi, in Greek] maximum freedom of movement and action. The invention is due to enthusiastic amateur deep-sea divers, thanks to which underwater sports were created. So underwater swimming spread to the athletic youth around the world at lightning speed. Is this due to the unparalleled charm of the deep? Does it come from love for the sport and the existing difficulties in it? It is certainly an indisputable fact that the followers of scuba diving are increasing amazingly from day to day, and the sport is growing at a great speed. But also, at the same speed, the dangers of destruction of the antiquities of the deep increase. (Voutsaras, 1962, p. 3)

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The phantasmagoric underwater museum, of course, includes not only sensitive antiquities. But that does not mean that “all enthusiastic followers of [underwater] sports are also looters of underwater archaeological sites” (Voutsaras, 1962: 4). This connection between diving and archaeological looting, a fear to which the president refers, will have a long history in the evolution of scuba diving in Greece, as we will see below. They are prophetic words. According to the aforementioned author, scuba diving carries inherent ecological fears. Although it is still early for an ecological sensitivity that will emerge many years later in the Greek diving community, the article already mentions prohibitions in many countries on fishing using scuba gear, without providing further details or the author taking a clear stance. In the same issue, however, on page 7, there is a reprint of the federation’s circular to all its member clubs regarding the legislative regulation “On Fishing through the Use of Underwater Rifle.” This circular ware based on the Article 2 new law of which fishing using breathing devices is prohibited. A preliminary prohibition that will be confirmed a decade later, when, in a new legislative regulation (FEK 235/B/30.03.1971) it is explicitly stated that: Underwater fishing with diving devices is prohibited. Only underwater swimming with scuba diving devices for the purposes of sports, seabed research, or recreation is allowed for the following:

1. Graduates of EOUDA […].

2. Graduates of the Naval Academy. 3. Graduates of Nautical Clubs, EOUDA members. 4. Graduates of Private Schools of underwater activity. Underwater research is only allowed with permission from the competent authorities, as appropriate.

The aforementioned legislative regulation reiterated the triad of purposes for underwater activities—sport, research, recreation—that the federation aimed for, and it also delineated with clarity the scuba diving solely for individuals who have undergone formal certification. It is reprinted on page 36 of the first issue of the magazine “Underwater World,” which in 1971 succeeded the Orion magazine, whose circulation ended that year. Subsequent legislation confirmed the related prohibition on fishing using breathing devices (see, for example, P.D. 373/85, FEK A/131, “On

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Amateur Fishing and Sport Fishing,” or its amendment with P.D. 86/98, FEK A/78, “On Shellfish Fishing”), as well as from the European Union rules 1967/2006 “On the relative management measures for sustainable exploitation of fishing resources in the broader Mediterranean region.” In any case, the emerging diving community in Greece engenders both hopes and fears, which frame the practice of pleasurable exploration. A fusion of fears and expectations, it is the expected confusion of a transitional period, where the federation has from the beginning a clear objective, as explicitly mentioned in the editorial of the second issue of Orion magazine in 1962 (page 1), the “development of athletic and scientific action at the depths,” as well as recreational marine activities. Indeed, in the 1960s and the early 1970s, the federation contributed, by mobilizing experienced divers, to archaeological missions from abroad, in collaboration with Greek archaeological services, and some archaeologists were trained as divers (Kritzas, 1978, 1988; Theodoulou, 2011a). According to the testimony of the subsequent president of EOUDA, K. Kalatzis, (then a young community doctor), during such an archaeological collaborative mission, the Greek term “autoditis” (autodiver) was coined, replacing the previously used “katakolimvitis” (underwater swimmer). In research in Methoni, Peloponnese, in the year 1962, in which the American underwater explorer, journalist, and expert in underwater archaeological research, Peter Throckmorton participated, the participants experienced, according to the writings: Exceptional days. The revelatory magic of the depths and the thrilling sensation of underwater life. (Kalatzis, 1990: 266)

Without spectacular finds like those of Antikythera, the underwater archaeological research was nevertheless deemed successful and continued the following year, in 1963, in the broader area (centered on the island of Sapientza). During an evening debriefing dinner, in a discussion about what it would be proper to call those involved in this activity, inspired by K. Kalatzis and based on the Greek word autokinito (car, something auto-­ moved), the term “autoditis” was proposed and has been used to this day. Its first use was in the report of the research results on September 30, 1993 (Kalatzis, 1990: 273–74), where the discoveries of the experienced diver Nikos Kartelias are mentioned. The Greek term “autoditis/tria” (male/female scuba diver) is quite precise, as it emphasizes the element of autonomy (autonomous diver), in

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contrast to the term “diver,” which refers to the traditional practice of diving with a helmet/hookah, mainly for professional and subsistence purposes (sponge divers, coral fishermen, ship’s hull cleaning workers, etc.). It is clearer than the corresponding term that has prevailed internationally “scuba diver.” Later, as a guest of the Greek Tourism Organization and the Ministry of Culture and Sciences, Captain Cousteau arrives in Greece with his legendary vessel Calypso at the end of 1975, where he will stay for about a year (Theodoulou, 2011b). This collaboration brings Greece’s underwater activity closer to global pioneering, focusing on archaeological research. A symbolic presence that continues to be a reference point for the development of diving in Greece. This is evidenced by a commemorative event and a corresponding exhibition (photographic and of finds) dedicated to Cousteau’s team research on the small island of Dia, organized in the summer of 2022 in Heraklion, by the Crete Office of the Maritime Antiquities Service. The Institutionalization of Underwater Archaeology Participating in underwater archaeological research mainly in the 1960s, scientists and volunteers founded the Institute of Underwater Archaeological Research (I.E.N.A.E.) in 1973. It was the first underwater archaeology body in Greece, in the form of a private-law non-profit-­ scientific organization. It collaborated closely with the Ministry of Culture, and its activities continue to this day with various research projects (Theodoulou, 2011b; Vichos, 1993). Since 1989, the Institute has been publishing the journal ENALIA, which is the only specialized scientific publication on underwater archaeology in Greece and one of the few internationally. In 1976, the Ephorate of Underwater Antiquities was founded as a Special Peripheral Service of the Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports with responsibility across the entire Greek State (FEK 207/A/10.8.1976). Its objective was the protection of underwater antiquities, which comprise wrecks of ancient ships, settlements, or ancient harbor installations that lie in the seas, lakes, and rivers. It was the first official state body for the protection of the country’s underwater cultural heritage. Thus, the institutional period of research and control of underwater monuments in Greek waters was inaugurated.

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As defined by the founding law of 1976, the main responsibility of the Ephorate of Maritime Antiquities is as follows: (a) The detection and investigation of identified shipwrecks of ancient vessels, settlements, or ancient buildings located within the seas, lakes, and rivers, and the care for their safeguarding and the recovery of shipwrecks. (b) The preservation of underwater antiquities. (c) The organization of museums of underwater antiquities. (d) The supervision of the work of Institutes of Underwater Activities, Oceanographic Institutions, and missions. This new institution thus assumes the overall responsibility for the management of any element defined as underwater cultural heritage. The Ephorate of Maritime Antiquities promoted collaborations with Greek and foreign entities, utilizing new high-technology tools for inspections, and acquired significant expertise, with the result of drastically expanding the possibilities for exploration to previously unattainable depths and extents (Theodoulou, 2011b). Along with the responsibility for archaeological research, which indeed has been rich (Dellaporta, 2005; Simosi, 2009; Theodoulou, 2011b; Tsouchlos & Agourides, 1999; Vichos, 1993), it also undertakes the control of the aquatic environment within which these are found. This responsibility will lead to a paradox that will define the history of diving for the next twenty-five years. With the fear of antiquity smuggling, diving using scuba gear will be banned, except for specific exceptions… The Diving Prohibition The concerns of the first president of the EΟΥΔΑ, as articulated in the previously mentioned article on the “Underwater Museum,” were confirmed in the early 1970s. With a revision to the Volos Port Regulation, diving was prohibited throughout the jurisdiction of the said agency. This ban, which would later be generalized, significantly influenced the behaviors and mindset of the diving community, shaping the broader field of recreational scuba diving for the subsequent three decades. The responses to the diving ban were swift and immediate. The editorial of the magazine Ypovrychios Kosmos (Underwater World), Vol. 7, p. 3,

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carries the title: “Questions to the Authorities (on the prohibition in 713/FEK B’/2.9.1971).” The editorial articulates: According to the regulation of the Volos Port Authority, we, both Greeks and foreigners—whom the promotional materials of the EOT [Hellenic Tourism Organization] invite to savor the pleasures of the Greek coasts— are all suspect of pilfering antiquities. […] We appeal to the competent authorities: reconsider the prohibition of the Volos Port regulation. Give us back our right to freely engage in the sports we love without being under suspicion. The state has an obligation to protect its citizens and their rights. Not to view them with distrust.

It is not just the protest that is intriguing but also its underlying reasoning. This includes the reference to scuba diving as a recreational sport, the appeal to the inherent right to enjoy the sea, and its linkage with tourism. However, despite growing protests, the ban would become more comprehensive by the mid-1970s. “Diving is prohibited in all Greek areas of national jurisdiction unless conducted in places where their recreational character is evident,” informs the magazine Ypovrychios Kosmos on page 4 of its 46th issue in 1975, expressing its grievances to the Minister of Maritime Affairs and hoping the prohibition would be temporary. Yet, it would persist for another three decades. Despite continuous protests from representatives of the diving community and institutional bodies such as EOUDA, the ban on diving persisted. This prohibition would later be legally established as protection for the underwater archaeological heritage (Tourtas, 2017). Subsequent laws would emphasize the preservation of underwater finds as an integral part of cultural heritage that must be safeguarded (Papasimakopoulos, 2008). As stated in Article 1, Paragraph 2 of Law 3028/2002 “On the Protection of Antiquities and the Cultural Heritage in General” (FEK 153/A/28.6.2002): The country’s cultural heritage consists of cultural goods located within the boundaries of the Greek territory, including territorial waters, as well as within other maritime zones over which Greece exercises jurisdiction in accordance with international law. The cultural heritage also includes intangible cultural goods.

This legal foundation emphasizes the importance of preserving both tangible and intangible aspects of Greek cultural heritage, clearly extending

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the protection to underwater finds, which were seen as crucial parts of this heritage. Gradually, international conventions were integrated into domestic law, such as the Barcelona Convention or the “UNESCO Convention on the Protection of the Underwater Cultural Heritage” (2001). This latter convention defines “underwater cultural heritage” as all traces of human existence that bear a cultural, historical, or archaeological character and which have been either partially or entirely submerged underwater. This legislative integration reflects a harmonization with global legal standards aimed, on the one hand, at protecting underwater heritage, and on the other, broader spatial and regulatory measures that define international maritime law and the scope of economic exploitation of the seabed. Certainly, the trends in the legal regulation of the seabed are driven by various and often diverse processes that take place at the level of interstate relations and international organizations. Over time, these processes shape the institutional horizon within which political actors are inevitably called upon to act. Examples include the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (used as a tool to resolve interstate disputes over access to raw materials below the sea surface), the “Our Common Future” report by the World Commission on Environment and Development, and the UN international conferences on climate and sustainable development (e.g., Goal 14, “Life Below Water -Conserve and sustainably use the oceans, seas, and marine resources for sustainable development”) (Forrest, 2002; Ioannou & Strati, 2000; Strati, 1994, 1995; Strati, 2002; O’Keefe, 2002). In the meantime, diving was permitted until 2005 only in specific areas where competent authorities certified the absence of underwater antiquities. These areas were limited to certain parts of Attica, like Vouliagmeni, and certain islands where diving centers, catering to tourists, operated. A Short Story When I completed my studies in journalism, before delving into sociology, I returned from Athens to Crete, to the small town of Ierapetra where I hailed from. I had already achieved the first star in the professional series of CMAS, equivalent to one star Instructor, and I contemplated pursuing diving as a profession. Together with an experienced older diver, we considered jointly submitting an application to the Archaeological Service, which was headquartered in Athens, aiming to establish the area’s first

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diving center. Given the diving ban in the wider region, we submitted a request where, citing our “business interest,” we sought clearance for a specific diving zone. However, on a spring morning in March, I received the following letter (Photo 6.5): Following your application logged in our Ephorate […] we wish to inform you that, for the time being at least, it’s impossible to grant the requested license in the marine area of Ierapetra, Crete, since it hasn’t been exempted from the zones where diving is prohibited. However, you could revisit with a new application to establish a diving center in one of the allowed marine areas as per the FEK 388/Β/28.5.1993, 152/Β/18.3.1988, 542/Β/12.7.1989. We would like to let you know that our Ephorate intends in the near future to release more marine areas for diving, among which there will also be a zone in Ierapetra.

The rejection was somewhat anticipated. We were living in the era of prohibition. In a prior application dated 13.07.1990, my diving colleague had also unsuccessfully attempted to obtain the sought-after permit from the same department. He had requested permission to guide clients from a specific hotel “to the seabed using diving tanks up to a depth of 8 meters.” Currently, the region hosts a five-star PADI diving center, collaborating with numerous hotels in the area. The prohibition did not cease diving activities; it merely categorized them as illicit. Upon revisiting my diving logbook, I found that at least two-thirds of my dives during that period took place in areas where diving was not permitted. For an extended time, a common understanding emerged, a situation of recreation in a semi-illegal state. Not entirely illegal, because, given the irrational nature of the general prohibition, the authorities responsible for its enforcement exhibited tolerance, refraining from prosecuting recreational divers if they did not dive conspicuously. In an invitation letter I received at this time from the Greek Club for Underwater Activities and Research (ΕΛΥΔΕ) to divers in the early 1990s (explicitly addressing both men and women), it stated: If you love diving, if you love the sea, then there is definitely a place for you with ΕΛΥΔΕ. A community that was formed ten years ago with altruistic objectives such as the promotion and dissemination of diving, research, and protection of the marine environment. […] Dear friend, if you want to find

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Photo 6.5  Rejection notice from the Ephorate of Maritime Antiquities in response to a joint application by myself and a fellow diver for the establishment of a diving center in Ierapetra, Crete. Source: Author’s personal archive

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your own ‘ haunt,’ your underwater companionship, to stay updated about contemporary diving issues and the latest developments in your hobby, you can join us. Experience the joy of collaborative work without the stress of ‘illegality,’ away from the mundane, among people who can understand you and whom you can understand. And so, together, YOU and WE will manage to open the seas.

In this letter from a private non-profit organization established in 1982, the conditions prevailing in the early 1990s are summarized. A community of certified divers had already been formed, eager to stay updated on the scientific advancements in the field, diving recreationally in a state of semi-illegality. A situation that would persist for another decade.

The Production of the Underwater Recreational Space The prohibition of diving was terminated with the law N.3409/2005 “Recreational Diving and Other Provisions” (FEK 273/Α/4.11.2005). This legislation did more than merely lift the prohibition on scuba diving; it recontextualized the activity within the broader framework of tourism. The minister responsible at the time, P.  Kammenos, initiated legislative discussions in the Greek Parliament on Wednesday, October 12, 2005. His remarks were part of the proceedings that ultimately led to the law’s enactment (Parliamentary Proceedings, 1A Period, Session B, Session H): Madam President, ladies and gentlemen, the draft law we are discussing today is indeed a draft law that is not born out of the majority and comes to parliament to seek the opinion of the opposition parties. It’s a draft law that was born within the Greek parliament. A draft law that began not on party initiative but on the initiative of MPs from all parties for about seven years now. It is a draft law that we, fellow MPs from different parties, began with the same love and the same perception: the liberation of the Greek seas, the development of diving tourism, the possibility for our islands to experience the tourist season beyond the two months of July and August from March until at least November.

In the continuation of the discussions, in which the body generally agreed, the “liberation” was directly linked to the economic stake:

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Recreational diving and diving tourism is the most significant sector of the global economy with an annual turnover of billions of dollars. Beyond diving operations, instructors, diving centers, tourist diving enterprises, and diving equipment stores, this industry indirectly feeds almost all sectors of our tourism, including travel agents, hotels, restaurants, and shops.

Regardless of the credibility of the evidence invoked by the law’s reporter, a diver himself, that entire states (such as Seychelles, Maldives, Trinidad, etc.) rely on diving as their primary economic resource, there are also the fact that neighboring countries (Egypt, Israel, Turkey, etc.) have long been active in the field, that there are four hundred thousand divers in Greece and three and a half million in Europe who travel annually for diving spending a lot of money. So, the enchanting seabed is presented as an economically exploitable resource: Greece is the ideal diving destination. It is a country with many islands, warm and clear waters, safe waters, and vivid, spectacular seabed. Greece can become the Caribbean of Europe.

According to this view, generally accepted by the body of MPs, the phantasmagoric Greek seabed needs to be liberated from the shackles of the past, especially from the suffocating grip of the archaeological services over 90% of the Greek coasts: Most divers were prosecuted. They were pursued as antiquities looters or suspected of being such, or as illegal fishermen. […] With this law, Greece frees its seabed and essentially has the potential to host around two and a half million tourists on the Greek islands and coastal areas. It’s estimated that these tourists will come to develop diving tourism in our country over the next five years.

The reporter’s speech is quite aggressive toward the archaeological community. Underwater activities in the sea with respiratory devices or other submersible means, for recreational purposes, are henceforth permitted throughout the territory. It is only prohibited in specific sea areas of underwater archaeological sites, determined by the competent services of the Ministry of Culture, as well as in particular ecologically sensitive marine ecosystems. This law widely opened the market to diver training services. As a result, the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities (EOUDA) was

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completely marginalized in the field of scuba diving, and the domestic monopoly in the field of training, which was mentioned in the previous chapter, was abolished. Global training service providers, especially PADI, soon dominated. Recreational diving was inevitably linked to tourism. Not only because diving was conceived as a tourist product, but also because recreational dives became underwater tours, allowing enjoyment of a seabed perceived as a magical place. Subsequent legislation further intensified the tourist nature of scuba diving. According to Law N. 4296/2014 (FEK 214/Α/2.10.2014) “Diving Parks—Organized Dives”, small marine areas are demarcated. In these areas, all types of fishing and navigation are prohibited, while only the controlled activity of recreational diving is permitted. Under the newer Law 4688/2020 (FEK 101/Α/24.05.2020), it is explicitly stated in Article 2 that: Recreational diving tourism includes the practice of underwater activities in every aquatic area of the Greek territory with respiratory devices or other underwater means for recreation. Diving tourism is freely allowed throughout the territory, including marine areas adjacent to diving parks, regardless of diving depth [subject to special legislative provisions].

With these new regulations, the establishment of “underwater museums,” namely diving parks within declared underwater archaeological sites, renamed as “visit-able underwater archaeological sites”, was permitted. Underwater antiquities, once off-limits, are now accessible to recreational divers (Pehlivanides et al., 2020; Tourtas, 2020). Special guides are issued so that the underwater “visitors” are informed about the history of the underwater “monuments” and the history of their discovery (Theodoulou, 2022). In August 2020, the first underwater museum in Greece began its operation off the coast of Alonissos, on the shores of the Peristera island. The famous shipwreck, located at a depth ranging between 21 and 28 meters from the sea surface and within the protected area of the national marine park of Alonissos  – northern Sporades, is considered one of the most significant of classical antiquity, due to the untouched and large number of findings. Archaeologists have become supportive staff of the dive masters. Article 7 of Law 4688/2020 gives the diving community the opportunity to engage with shipwrecks, to enjoy their exquisite image, and to stir

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their imagination, but also to use them to attract more divers. With Article 8 of the same law, for the first time, the institution of “artificial underwater attractions” was permitted with the aim of increasing the biodiversity and diving appeal of marine areas. Thus, in many existing or planned diving parks, the creation of artificial reefs and attractions is envisioned. For example, in the planned diving park of Geraniou in the Municipality of Rethymno, the sinking of a decommissioned warship and two airplanes is planned. By decision of the responsible secretary-general (FEK 2968/B/5.5.2023), it is definitively provided that upon request, interested parties can sink ships, wrecks, floating shipyards, or other artificial fish shelters in a specific sea area for the purpose of creating a core of underwater life, or for training or guiding divers. This procedure aims at the “safe and eco-friendly” sinking of artificial objects to enrich Greece’s underwater environment for recreational diving and also for creating suitable conditions for the establishment of cores of underwater life. Recreation, tourism, and rising ecological sensitivity come together in a unified vision of the underwater world. The Seabed as a Contested Field This brief history highlights how the seabed, like similar cases of tourist development, constitutes a contested space, a boundary zone at stake (Nazou, 2023). The processes of transforming the seabed into a place of recreation occur in a competitive environment where the prospects of many different forms of economic and political exploitation open up (Avrami et al., 2021; Bennet, 2020), among which tourism and leisure are just one of them (Da Silva, 2004). A field for fishermen and sponge divers, a place where nationally sensitive antiquities reside, a captivating destination for recreational dives, these legislative regulations and the reasons supporting them gradually lead to viewing the seabed as a phantasmagorical space. Now integrated into the tourism sector, with the dual concept of a specialty product (Moira & Mylonopoulos, 2019) and the enjoyable underwater tour that expanding the notion of tourism into the realm of everyday life (Lash & Urry, 1994), scuba diving aims at experiencing the phantasmagoria as a marketable practice that aligns with the reflective individual constantly moving through intersecting symbolic and material territories. In this long journey, the seabed is constantly shaped as it is redefined, and ultimately symbolically invested in as a space for recreation and

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commercial exploitation (Harvey, 1991; Soja, 1989). It is a lengthy process of shaping a commodity-place, a place for multisensory experiences, with the contribution of global flows (Appadurai, 1996) and local interventions. Notably, at least until the late 1970s, in successive features of the “Underwater World” magazine on marine activities characterized as emerging fields of tourist interest, scuba diving was not included. Despite the association by the president of EOUDA from the 1960s, of scuba diving with tourism (as one of its possible contributions to the country’s development), and despite the funding of this federation’s facilities by the Greek National Tourism Organization (during a dictatorship era), the touristization of diving would be a slow process. It would require drastic policies, both in terms of the legal regulation of scuba diving as a tourist product and in the field of spatial planning, changing the significance of the underwater space. Consequently, a new tourist underwater spatial order replaces the archaeological one, a result of the osmosis of policies shaping the underwater space as a recreational landscape (Giakoumi et al., 2017; Roberts & Jones, 2013). As happens in many other cases of tourist development, space is reshaped in favor of the expansion of the commercial field (Massey, 2005; Massey & Catalano, 1978; Triantis, 2018, 2020; Williams, 2009; Wilson, 2012). Thus, the seabed, as a development opportunity (Triantis, 2020), is exploited to extend the domestic tourist market, integrating it into the global tourist circuit (Harvey, 2006), transforming into a water/ land/tourism space (van der Duim, 2007). In the case of the seabed of the Greek seas, we do not observe a policy of fencing off a public good and seizing it for commercial exploitation but a process of producing it as a phantasmagoric place (Cahill et al., 2018; Peckham, 1999) and as a field for the extension of tourist activities. Underwater Spatial Arrangements Spatial regulations are intrinsically linked to the rising underwater emotional economy and the corresponding sensory regime. Dive parks, artificial reefs created inside them by sinking decommissioned ships and airplanes, act as new “slums of hope” (Leontidou, 1990) in the Greek space, in the domain of tourism. Seabed areas are incorporated into the broader field of tourist exploitation (Boissevain & Selwyn, 2004), in vaguely demarcated territories intended for commercialized underwater exploration, within the context of an underwater spatial fix process

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(Harvey, 1982). These policies seem to be served by the provisions of Law 4688/2020—“Special forms of tourism, provisions for tourist development and other provisions” (FEK 101/A/24.05.2020). Article 8 explicitly mentions the possibility of intervention in the seabed for “enriching underwater flora and fauna and/or the general enhancement of the attractiveness of the underwater landscape by creating diving attractions”, the phantasmagoric perception of the underwater world. As Henri Lefebvre (1991) argued, space, the seabed of Greek seas in our case, especially in the cases of sinking ships, planes, and other inactive human-made objects, seems authentically natural when it is purposefully created. Just like the beach (Urbain, 2003), the seabed is shaped in such a way as to be considered a representation of nature, which is not nature. Through these spatial interventions, global policies related to international tourism development become localized (Triantis, 2020), establishing a foothold in specific regions, subsequently shaping perspectives, and altering the environmental living conditions (Baranowski, 2004). By modifying the seabed, the gaze that observes it is simultaneously altered. At its extremes, this practice reverses the nature-culture relationship. The very cultural production, the social derivatives, such as the sunken decommissioned artifacts, framed by the living life that gradually colonizes them, for the viewing of scuba diving tourists, is conceived as nature (Jameson, 1991). The diver-explorer symbolically and materially destroys the authenticity he seeks (MacCannell, 1999). As Tim Enderson argued, in spaces created for tourism, the space is signified as a leisure field and is realized as such both through individual practices and through regulatory arrangements focused on enhancing tourist commodities (Endensor, 2006). Dive centers are at the heart of the commercialized diving field worldwide, and for this reason their management is problematized through the lens of sustainability (Dimmock & Musa, 2015; Lucrezi et  al., 2017). They are driven by the laws of the tourist market, by the global oligopolies in offering training services, by local and domestic shapers of the tourist environment that shape it as such through large-scale policies (Nikolakakis, 2015a, 2015b, 2017a, 2017b; Nikolakakis & Savvakis, 2017). Also, by the continuously expanding leisure culture of the experience society in recent years (Miles, 2021; Monterrubio, 2018; Morgan & Pritchard, 1998). The society of experience is the essential feeder of diving tourism in its various forms. Tourism, in general, is inseparable from the culture of its time and is rooted in its specific expressions (Nazou et al., 2022).

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Dive centers in Greece, and elsewhere, do not only cater to experienced divers. They also operate as diving schools for beginners and as intermediaries in the underwater exploration experience. This latter has various forms, from guiding on a surface tour like snorkeling to experience diving, the “try diving” as it is called in the diving market. The underwater world’s allure is not limited to divers… Professional divers, those working in diving tourism according to the new terminology, see the seabed and what they do under this new understanding lens. The seabed, this malleable space full of charm, is a new workplace, a peculiar shop filled with magical images and opportunities for enjoyable multisensory experiences.

The New Professional View In Greece, most diving units, with a few exceptions in Athens, were historically primarily stores selling diving equipment and related products. These products were either related to marine activities (fishing equipment, boat equipment, etc.) or entirely unrelated to diving (tool stores, paint stores, etc.). Additionally, training was not a dedicated profession, and was experienced by few. The education aimed to initiate trainees into the world of diving and integrate them into the broader circle of the diving unit. As diving gradually became a serious hobby, these new divers potentially converted into regular customers, buying diving equipment and services (tank refills and diving equipment service). Even today, there are few diving shops catering to local residents. The vast majority of diving centers primarily operate as service providers to foreign tourists (training and accompanying underwater tours). Sometimes, only during the tourist season, from late spring to early autumn. They cater to the members of the globalized mobile diver community. These centers are only somewhat connected to local maritime traditions. Instead, they function as endpoints of globalized flows, as hubs of a global network, temporary stops for the moving masses of underwater experience collectors. In conversations with professionals at diving centers in Crete (see Chap. 2), a sentiment is expressed that captures all these prolonged transformations at the level of institutional regulations and social representations mentioned earlier. In the everyday reality of “working with people”, promoting the good of the underwater experience, the seabed finally seems liberated from the previous “bonds” of archaeology and the restrictive

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state regulations in the field of diver training. They are now fully integrated into a globalized network of human flows, managing their underwater experiences as underwater guides. They talk about their life next to and inside the sea, about the seabed and its fantasy, an asset which they live. As one interlocutor describes his life with the sea: “[…] where I was born I was 15 meters from the sea. I was always on the rocks, watching the fish, catching octopuses. […] From then on I had a very great appreciation of the sea. Back then I was watching Cousteau’s movies on TV, I was buying his books, reading them. I always wanted to get involved with diving but it was prohibited, diving was banned here in Greece”. Today, this middle-aged man is a professional diver at a diving center. The new regulations changed the biographies of people who lived by the sea, integrating them into the globalized diving industry. A typical anecdote of a diving instructor, who also works in Crete: I started diving as a small kid because both my parents were [scuba] divers, not professionals, and it was the classic ‘look at my child’ scenario. I was thrilled from a young age and continued first as a hobby and then professionally in the diving sector. I am also a trainer of trainers in PADI where there is only one higher certification which is an examiner. […] I have been involved for the last 20 years full time in diving as an instructor, worked in recent years as the person in charge in one of the largest diving centers here in Crete. Diving activity constitutes my main livelihood, I don’t do anything else.

Professional divers in the field of diving tourism are clearly aware of the institutional changes mentioned earlier, which expanded their professional horizons. These sea-faring individuals, who make a living from the sea, talk freely now about it and everyone who defined their relationship with it. Archaeology and state services are now seen as powerful allies. They are privileged interlocutors in an activity that is perceived as professional-­ economic, based on selling a paradoxical product: tours of the maritime cultural landscape (Tourtas, 2020). This refers to the expanded field of new maritime archaeology, which includes not only the submerged items from earlier times, like shipwrecks, scattered amphorae, and fragments of statues, which are accessible to divers, but also the practices and forms of knowledge associated with them, such as colonization and early maritime imperialisms (Jewell, 2004).). However, it also concerns the present,

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including interventions on the sea floors with the creation of artificial reefs and underwater modern art museums, as well as ecological concerns about the state of the seas due to modern civilization and the footprint it leaves on the seabed. As one of our interlocutors points out, “in the old days, big federations that were not Greek were prohibited from providing training. Only EOUDA, the Greek Federation, was allowed to train divers. Of course, this changed with the European Union and other factors. Now all the major global federations are recognized.” One of his colleagues points out, “now a PADI instructor can work properly.” EOUDA’s monopoly paved the way for global providers to expand their horizons in the local market. It is a livelihood for a number of people who saw an opportunity in this emerging field. Another active diver working at a diving center invokes this right to work, saying: “We started 20 years ago, maybe from the general prohibition where they might have shot us, but now we’ve reached a level where they start to understand that it’s our bread and butter, which we have to claim and possess.” Certainly, the ban had not stopped the dives (“Diving was forbidden, we did it in forbidden places”, another professional told us), but today the areas that are archaeologically significant are known and defined. Access to these areas is rightly restricted because “if 200 people went there every day, in the end, nothing would be left”, a diving center manager tells us. As noted by someone responsible for promoting the diving product in a dive center, the point is to create a broader opening that expands diving horizons, competing equally in the global market: “All our instructors and the entire staff are certified professionals from PADI because we are a PADI five-star dive center, which means that we also have high-quality services and educational programs.” And she continues: “Until 2005, diving was prohibited except in one or two predetermined places in each region. After 2005, diving opened everywhere […] so diving has already become more accessible through the legislative framework.” According to another professional, “now […] we are on the right path, because archaeology has realized that the ban doesn’t help, and some archaeological underwater sites are opening for visits under certain conditions”. Based on the above, the archaeological services are partners in managing the crowd, the tourist divers. Potentially, the state services are partners as well. A common point in the professionals’ discourse is that they can help so that the many existing “wrecked ships” can be utilized in the

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Photo 6.6  Recreational scuba divers visit a modern shipwreck. Photo by Cristos Ladas

diving industry, transforming into artificial reefs (See indicative, Photo 6.6). Thus, it is estimated that the local business diving community will gain points in the global diving industry. The issue might not be whether these collaborations and interventions exist at the bottom of the seas. The most crucial thing might be prioritizing. What matters most is the improvement of the “product-seabed.” The Comparative Advantages in a World Market The product under discussion is significantly globalized. As asserted by the promotion head of a dive center, the clientele she represents consists exclusively of tourists. Interestingly, native Greeks do not form a substantial segment of their customer base. Within the realm of global markets, the concept of comparative advantage is of paramount importance. The

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unique selling point highlighted by the spokesperson is the unparalleled purity of the waters in Greece. The foreigner […] when they come here and see the waters we have in Greece, realizes the truth that such waters are not found in other countries. The purity of our waters and the visibility, especially in Crete, which extends beyond 20 meters, is not something they are accustomed to, given the absence of such warm and clean waters in their homeland. As a result, they are deeply impressed and desire to see, experience, and swim in them.

Furthermore, there is potential to expand this offering even more with the support of state policies. As the spokesperson maintains, “Greece possesses immense potential to bolster its diving tourism, with numerous areas still unexplored.” The product-seabed has not yet reached its full potential in Greece. This expansion is not merely spatial. It does not pertain only to territorial expansion. It can also be qualitative, especially when it includes underwater antiquities, which professionals in the diving tourism industry believe can broaden its horizons. The “very clear and transparent waters compared to other countries” are not accompanied by a rich fauna and flora. Therefore, what can be developed is an expansion of the “aquatic landscape.” What led to diving restrictions can very well become a major asset: the underwater antiquities. As one professional claims, “here in Greece, we have a certain history, and we can showcase the historic shipwrecks, which are, of course, an attraction for divers. It brings up the topic of visits to archaeological sites.” Underwater antiquities can transition from being an obstacle to scuba diving to becoming a tradable commodity of great value. “In other words,” another colleague continues, “just as we have a museum, an archaeological site in Knossos or the Palaces in Malia, for instance, there should be certain underwater sites, mainly ancient shipwrecks, the shipwrecks with various broken amphorae, which indeed serve as an attraction because many visitors request this, they want to go see it. Just as they want to visit Knossos, divers too want to see something underwater.”

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Recreational Underwater Spectacle for All Professionals who shared their insights with us believe that “the market is very large” because “globally there are so many divers who want to practice this sport in our region”. The issue is the lack of diving infrastructure, referring especially to interventions at the seabed. “The landscape we present lacks diving parks and ecological sea area protected from fishing where marine life can thrive without any issues”, according to a professional. Moreover, this target group stands out from the general tourist masses. As another professional aptly pointed out, “diving is done by what we call the ‘refined people’, meaning these individuals typically have an educational background and are what we often refer to as refined, possessing the means to spend, being successful in their lives”. Potential customers of diving centers are looking for enjoyable exploration and relaxation. The product is for everyone, concerning not economic status but gender, age or physical ability. As another professional mentioned, “diving starts from the age of 8 and is allowed until a doctor advises against it due to health reasons. My oldest customer was 85 years old, and it really is for everyone […] even disabilities don’t matter underwater.” This is because the focus is entertainment, as another professional emphasizes: We offer recreational diving […] it’s entertainment, a sport, not even a competitive activity per se. It isn’t a sport because there’s no competition; you can’t say in diving that ‘I dive better, I go deeper, I hold my breath longer’. Scuba diving is purely for entertainment, it’s a hobby, a form of relaxation. […] which means a 10-year-old child to a 70-year-old senior, provided they don’t have a concerning medical history and are in decent physical condition, can engage in it.

The embodied enjoyment of underwater exploration is therefore for everyone. There, in the depths of the seas, in Greece but also in popular diving destinations around the world, everyone can taste the phantasmagoria of aquatic landscapes. According to the words of one of the professionals with whom we shared our underwater experiences, “a recreational diver, when entering the marine environment, first and foremost perceives its magic, its beauty.” Thus, a photographic atmosphere dominates, as the seabed and everything it encompasses in its liquid body are presented for viewing.

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Within this “enchanting landscape,” underwater travelers will experience the sensation of flying and diving into the wet “blue” body of the sea, enjoying the exploration itself, the view of the seabed that has been turned into a commodity. At the same time, their gaze is turned inward, to their very self. The sound of underwater breathing echoes the social purposes that shaped this water/landscape they visit, the vibrations of exhalation and the bubbles that emerge act as a paradoxical cultural sonar, guiding the exploration toward reflection on what one sees and what one could see.

CHAPTER 7

Breathing Under Water: Scuba Diving as Multisensory Experience

A boy comes running up and he asks: What exactly is the ocean? What is the sea? You could tell him a lot of statistics and Latin names. But the answer isn’t something you find in a book. To really know what the ocean is you have to see for yourself. You have to hear it… and taste it. You have to feel its power. To really know the ocean, you have to live it. Oceans (2009), a documentary directed by Jacques Perrin and Jacques Cluzaud.

This chapter focuses on the underwater multisensory experience. The allure of the ocean depths is conceived as an “alternative world,” with scuba diving being portrayed as an adventure offering divers sensations of discovery, enigma, and aesthetic appeal. Exploration of the liquid marine environments is intimately connected to the multisensory underwater experiences that guide divers through their brief subaquatic journeys. Employing technology for underwater breathing and ensuring a safe entrance and exit to this “blue” realm creates a series of unique experiences that are lived collectively. This constructs a sensory regime, encompassing the feeling of three-dimensional motion, the sensation of diving equipment fitting to one’s body, the refreshing touch of water seeping through the diving suit, the sound of inhaling and exhaling through the regulator, and the visual wonder of the constantly changing color spectrum according to depth. Navigating this extraordinary world fills © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Tzanakis, Scuba Diving Practices in Greece, Leisure Studies in a Global Era, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-48839-9_7

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recreational divers with profound emotions, guiding them to introspectively experience their own being. These processes, which juxtapose specific self-­practices with emotions stemming from the condition of the underwater technobody of recreational divers, realize the allure of the ocean depths as both a wondrous and fragile realm.

Blue Phantasmagoria: Allure, Senses, and Emotions The conceptualization of the seabed as a phantasmagoria, within the context of recreational diving, aligns with a specific regime of sensations and a corresponding emotional economy. At the core of this intricate web lie the motives of transient divers who visit the depths of the seas for a brief period. A movement experienced as pleasurable adventure in the context of recreational diving. The seabed, as an accumulation of meanings, living beings, products of human activity such as the technoscientific applications of diving equipment, and natural elements like light, waves, or the coolness of water, constitutes a historical “being-in-the-depths.” Fish and plants, visitable shipwrecks as tourist attractions, underwater museums, discarded objects of modern civilization, and marine parks are individual constituent elements of the materiality of contemporary underwater leisure exploration. A movement into the depths that represents an intense bodily experience. Contemporary “corporeality” (Csordas, 1994) reflects beneath the surface of the sea all those historical elements that shape the modern multisensory diving regime. A framework of meanings and bodily readiness that drives recreational divers to experience the pleasurable liminal journey into the blue-yonder, where they will seek both the unfamiliar and their own primal selves. The degree of satisfaction of the said condition (immersion into the blue-yonder, immersion into the self) in popular diving destinations around the world serves as a primary motivation for visiting them, sometimes more than once (Bentz et al., 2016; Musa, 2002). To see the seabed, to taste its saltiness, to cautiously indulge in the ability to go deeper into the liquid element, to feel their body becoming one with the equipment as they dive, to experience the crossing of the threshold of the sea’s surface, the breaking of its blue mirror. Thus, the underwater configuration of the leisure emotional system is realized, capitalizing on the very notion of the blue realm, through the underwater sensory behaviors and

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affective dispositifs that mediate the said and the unsaid (Corbin, 2016, 1991a, 1991b), in our case of the seabed. In the underwater leisure space, a holistic experience (Mauss, 2006) of multisensory perception of the underwater landscape develops. Diving, being based on socially mediated relationships with the liquid element, activates the senses and aligns with bodily rooted emotions related to underwater liminal experiences (Strandvad, 2018). During a discussion an experienced amateur diver (for the empirical material from narratives of amateur divers utilized in this and the next chapter, see Chap. 2), in his fifties, he refers to this intense emotional relationship with the seabed and the sea that characterizes members of the diving community: Most of us are in love with the sea. Inside it there is enormous animal and plant wealth. The seabed creates intense emotions and some kind of addiction to this environment. […] If you love the sea, you feel adrenaline when you dive but at the same time you feel an otherworldly calm and happiness, because you are in an environment where you can balance and exist, without being oppressed.

The social condition, the shaping of space, the organization of interactions, and the ideological investment of individual and group objectives shape the sensory regime through which the relationship with the world will be experienced, as described by Simmel (Simmel, 2009; Wolff, 1950, 1955). The importance given today to a kind of relationship with oneself based on introspection for the purpose of “self-regulation,” in order to meet specific ethical criteria that highlight individuality (Foucault, 1984a, 1984b, 2001, 2009; Rose, 1990, 2007; Vigarello, 2001a), defines the condition of leisure scuba diving and the related multisensory experiences associated with it (Allen-Collinson, 2010; Bonnet et  al., 2008; Cater, 2008b; Paterson, 2007; Strang, 2005a, 2005b; Straughan, 2012). A diving condition that is increasingly defined by commercialized leisure and tourism (Nikolakakis, 2017b; Foret & Martin-Razi, 2007; Foret & Torres, 2012). In this context, the fluidity of the liquid element is experienced as the opposite of the stability of everyday life. In the phantasmagorical seabed of leisure diving, the dialectic of seeing dominates (Benjamin, 2002; Buck-­ Morss, 1991); however, it is rooted in the hedonistic adventure of seeking multisensory bodily experiences and experiencing exceptional emotions through the utilization of advanced technoscientific applications.

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As another amateur diver with social characteristics similar to the previous one confided in us: Because you are in a different world where you are isolated, some senses are heightened; for example, you hear nothing, you only hear your own bubbles, and you hear your own thoughts very loudly because you don’t hear anything else.

The adaptation of the equipment to the body, with the consequent mediation of all the senses (hearing, taste, haptic experience, etc.) and functions (breathing, movement, etc.), integrates the diver into a different sensory regime. The diver’s body becomes a point of sensorial flows that permeate it, activating senses, creating emotions, mobilizing memories… Social representations are activated during the dive, re-signifying the seabed, flora, and fauna, sometimes as fragile beings. These are individual elements that make up the palimpsest of an embodied practice connected to an emotional economy that repeatedly refers back to the relationship between the self and the world. Blue Water, Black Water As Corbin (1994) argues, specific cultural and historical transformations of the seaside turned the sea from a space of fear and danger into one of pleasure, recreation, and tourism. The sea was once considered a wild, unpredictable place associated with danger, storms, shipwrecks, and other calamities. Only from the eighteenth century did attitudes toward the sea change, driven by Romantic artists, writers, and thinkers who began to appreciate its aesthetic qualities. This aesthetic reevaluation was later accompanied by medical recommendations that touted the health benefits of sea air and bathing, leading to a boom in sea-bathing and the growth of spa towns and resorts (Corbin, 1994). This transformation was the first step toward the wider touristization of the coastline (Urbain, 2003). Consequently, a series of rituals around sea-bathing developed, within the broader context of the democratization of the seaside holiday (from a luxury for the elite to a common pleasure) and the changing societal norms around beachwear and modesty. These changes are inseparable from the embodied seaside experience, which became synonymous with relaxation, family holidays, and a break from daily life (Corbin, 1994). This shift in attitudes was followed by the transformation of scuba diving

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into a recreational sport and later into an activity within the framework of globalized tourism. The new symbolisms that followed the change in social representations associated with the sea also involved its color. The conception of the sea as a place for recreation is accompanied by its transformation into a realm of blue. Blue is the color that symbolizes the sea’s shift into a place of leisure. In addition to the growing emphasis on the aesthetic value of the ocean floor, transforming it into a fantastical place worth seeing and experiencing, the journey through its waters also symbolizes emerging ecological sensitivities. This particular shade of blue, rarely found as a natural characteristic, increasingly represents nature in its entirety. The realization of Earth’s vulnerability is encapsulated in the color blue. Perhaps the most powerful cultural illustrations of this are the colored photographs “Earthrise” and “The Blue Marble,” taken during manned moon missions. Earth, a blue cradle of life, floats in an endless black universe. Through these images, blue and black have become contrasting symbolic components not only of life but also of human survival as a species. The color blue has gradually permeated modern representations of life itself, specifically survival (Kupferschmidt, 2021). It also extends to the concept of a good life, which includes recreation and the general pursuit of happiness. Within these overlapping interpretations of life, ecological concerns arise, particularly related to human activity in leisure pursuits. The sea summarizes this dialectic of consciousness about nature. While recreational diving is influenced by this shift in perception, it also contributes to its expansion beyond the sea’s surface. Though the sea appears blue from above, its depths gradually lose their color, eventually turning black, due to the water’s natural filtering properties. As Michel Pastoureau rightly points out, colors have a history, tied to specific times and places and influenced by a complex array of social factors. At the same time, as Pastoureau emphasizes, colors are not merely passive elements but actively shape cultural, social, and historical narratives. Colors are not natural phenomena but are influenced by ideological and culturally specific factors. Through colors, societies construct values, beliefs, and identities (Pastoureau, 2001). Colors serve as markers in a language that represents nature in a specific historical manner (Gage, 1999). While blue appears to be a privileged color in contemporary times, as noted by Pastoureau (2001), synonymous with tranquility and laden with anti-stress references, it was not always the case. In various periods of

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Western antiquity, blue was either associated with negative connotations or was often considered a secondary color, lacking the significance attributed to colors like red or black. Only later did various shades of blue, such as “royal blue,” which refers to a deep, saturated hue, gain positive meaning. Initially in Christian iconography, and later in elite fashion and architecture, blue came to be understood as something extraordinary. Similarly, Pastoureau (2008) observes that, like blue, black has served many roles in various societal and cultural contexts over the centuries. It has been associated with death, darkness, evil, sin, and the unknown in certain periods, while in others it represented elegance, dignity, and authority. By the nineteenth century, with the rise of realism and the influence of photography, black regained its prominence in the artist’s palette, symbolizing attributes like modernity, sophistication, and later, chicness. In our case, this analysis extends to the perception of deep depths, of the abysses. In contemporary times, the vast blue expanse of the sea has come to be seen as a reflection of tranquility, merging nature with the worldly experience. Seafarers and coastal communities have moved beyond viewing the sea merely as a source of sustenance or danger, seeing it as a destination unto itself. The allure of the “Big Blue” serves as a call to adventure. However, diving takes one from the blue surface—which is not always blue—into less colorful depths. Beyond a certain point, green dominates, followed by gray. Further down, one encounters the endless black darkness. The sea’s darker hues present a stark contrast to the celestial serenity associated with blue. Black symbolizes not only the abyss and the unfathomable depths hiding ancient secrets and monstrous leviathans but also represents the specialized technical requirements for survival “down there,” which only divers specifically trained in technical diving can achieve. Throughout literature and folklore, deep waters, where light diminishes and blackness reigns, have been emblematic of the unknown, the perilous, and the supernatural. The sea’s duality, in both color and character, symbolizes humanity’s complex relationship with it—a simultaneous source of sustenance, wonder, fear, and respect. Furthermore, the interplay between black and blue, especially during twilight when the sea turns into a dark expanse, serves as a metaphor for transitions—from day to night, from life to death, and from the known to the unknown. The “black-blue” of the sea during these transitional moments has inspired

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numerous artistic, literary, and religious interpretations. Whether seen as an endless blue horizon promising pleasurable explorations or the deep black of the abyss warning of the force of nature, the colors of the sea serve as a living canvas reflecting how both the sea and diving activities have evolved in socio-cultural contexts. Melanie Jue elucidates this complexity of sea representations in the Western imaginary (Jue, 2020). According to Jue, water, and specifically the sea, serves as one of the fundamental elements shaping collective imagination, culture, and political practices. The conceptualization of the sea influences the way we represent our relationship with what we understand as natural, our perception of the environment, our lifestyle, our social organization, and our political decisions. By emphasizing the blue of the sea and its transformation into a space for recreation and tourism, the symbolic meanings associated with the sea are highlighted. Consequently, the “wild blue” is understood in contemporary times as a space of freedom, adventure, and mystery. Indeed, the term “blue” appears exceedingly frequently in the names of diving centers, often accompanied by other descriptors that refer to diving as a form of recreation (e.g., “blue water adventures,” “blue explorer,” “the big blue,” “black ocean,” “blue paradise,” “blue dreams,” etc.). Even when blue is not explicitly mentioned, a significant portion of the printed advertising material or the corresponding websites of these diving centers are designed in various shades of blue. While blue is not the only color of the sea, it has indelibly become associated with recreational diving. It is the color of the surface that individuals penetrate, immersing themselves into the somatic experience of their presence in the ocean’s darker depths. Seawater is not always blue; at times, it is exceedingly dark. In issue 112 of 1980, an interview with the president of the Association of Professional Divers was published in the magazine Ypovrychios Kosmos (pp.  28–29). The occasion for the interview was a conference of professional divers organized at the Hilton Hotel in Athens. This was a transitional period during which scuba diving continued to be synonymous with progress and development. The depths of the Greek seas seemed an enchanting, unexplored world for many. Thus, a prestigious hotel was fitting for the occasion. At one point in the interview, the president of the aforementioned association ironically comments on the representations of the sea and the seabed as blue:

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You’re telling me. Azure seabed! […] I’ve dived in waters darker than tar. As for the fresh air, don’t forget that we breathe from bottles filled by compressors operating in the city. I think our profession is one of the most unhygienic. (p. 29)

The narrative reflects the association of the color blue not with diving in general, but specifically with recreational diving in the context of holidays and tourism. The sponge divers of the Dodecanese did not dive into blue seas. In their recollections, they will talk about the risks and long hours spent in the depths, never about the blue color of the sea. Similarly, professional divers currently working in the sectors of aquaculture or boat repair do not perceive diving as a “blue adventure,” as the waters in which they dive are often contaminated and heavily burdened by environmental pollution. Professional divers exploring oil and gas extraction platforms often see nothing but utter darkness and intimidating cold. Those who dive for various scientific purposes, such as archaeological or biological-­ environmental research, do not perceive their presence in the depths as a “blue adventure,” focusing instead on the objectives for which they are diving. Ultimately, social objectives shape perceptions of the color of seawater and oceans. Blue is not the color of the workers in the depths; it is the color of maritime leisure. Later, of course, it will also become the color of ecological concern for the state of the seas. But that is another story. The Color of the Equipment Color holds significance not only in the sea but also in diving equipment, which carries its own set of symbolisms. Military applications of various forms of scuba gear aim for camouflage, as seen in rebreathers and dark-­ colored diving suits. In contrast, recreational diving often features colorful accessories designed for the opposite purpose: to make the diver visible to their diving partner. The color of the equipment thus becomes a safety factor. For this reason, the equipment includes yellow components, which are more visible at commonly frequented depths up to 30 meters, or phosphorescent markings. Diving dress codes also reflect different, sometimes opposing, social purposes (visibility or invisibility, elegance or security, etc.) and ideological overlays. Black offers nothing in terms of safety but often has masculinist references. For this reason, many profile pictures on social networks feature men emphasizing their masculinity by choosing overly complex

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equipment that is entirely black. It is also worth noting that since the 1980s, for an extended period, portions of diving equipment designed for women, adjusted to fit the female body type, were lined with pink hues. Gradually, the dominant trend in equipment used in recreational diving is of a unisex type. However, the chromatic differentiation of the equipment symbolized in the past, and to a lesser extent continues to symbolize, gendered diving distinctions. As we have seen in previous chapters, the dimension of gender in diving is not merely a matter of inequality. It is something much deeper, as it relates to the very nature of recreational scuba diving itself, namely its perception as a safe, enjoyable adventure for everyone in the phantasmagoric depths of the blue seas.

Underwater Embodied Self Scuba diving exhibits parallel traits with other leisure activities such as rock climbing, whitewater rafting, mountain biking, kayaking, skydiving, and snowboarding, which are inherently entwined with elements of risk management. This positions the marine environment as a locale for not merely a touristic endeavor but an embodied and emotionally deep connection with the subaqueous landscape. Individual pathways for “re-­establishing” contact with nature traverse complex routes, sculpted by specific conditions related to a segment of the natural world (Kaufman, 1997, 2001, 2004). For each of these environments—whether the ocean floor, the waves, the mountain peak, or the forest—a set of values and customary behaviors evolve. These are exemplified in codified dress codes, specialized publications, enthusiast communities, and a culture that amplifies the meaningful sphere of recreation. Especially in outdoor activities that necessitate the use of advanced technoscientific applications, the ensuing experience is fundamentally a techno-experience. The absence of verbal communication—save for rare instances involving specialized technology—and the utilization of a globalized underwater semiotic language, the auditory perception of inhalation and exhalation, the sensation of floating and absence of gravity, the act of propulsion through fins, thermal protection through specialized clothing, and restricted visual field through diving masks, collectively constitute underwater embodied techno-experiences. These experiences diverge from the conventional social rhythm of daily life and the societal emotions with which it is associated (Durkheim, 1985; Durkheim, 1995).

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If scuba diving allows for a technologically mediated kinesthetic appropriation of the seawater, conceptualized as a natural environment for recreation and adventure, such appropriation is feasible only through the interweaving of technology and body. For instance, as free diving is based on a vertical movement of the body, the speed of which renders it a “vertical proprioceptive experience of depth” (Strandvad, 2018), scuba diving relies on a panoramic proprioceptive experience of the seabed. This is commensurate with a slow-paced underwater flânerie within the blue phantasmagoria. Heavy diving equipment and specialized training serve as guides for divers’ sensations and emotions, steering them toward a calibrated and temporally defined underwater journey. The space-time of diving thus delineates the domain of temporary escapism from daily life, a provisional immersion into the magical world of the blue phantasmagoria, realized as “intermittent time.” This brief period of “freedom” is nonetheless circumscribed by the technoscientific applications that make it feasible, such as scientifically determined maximum dwell times and requisite decompression stops. These are measured and recorded by a series of technological applications, such as the dive computer. Scuba diving is fundamentally a reflective and individualizing activity. “It’s just me and my bubbles,” states a female diver in a Greek television documentary, responding to a journalist’s query about what it is like “down there.” This phrase has become a cliché within diving communities, often referred to as “bubbles makers.” Diving in the blue water serves as a metaphor for immersing oneself in one’s own self. Diving communities represent a paradoxical form of collectivity flourishing on the horizon of late capitalist modernity, which individualizes its members while simultaneously incorporating them (Brymer et al., 2020). Scuba diving is essentially an exercise in autonomy, despite the fact that it is generally conducted as a group activity. This paradox is all the more evident when considering that diving with a reliable partner is perceived as the most fundamental safety measure. Safety and rational risk management are the overriding priorities in recreational scuba diving. A Globalized Discourse of Adventure Risk Management In a segment of the literature concerning outdoor leisure activities, scuba diving is categorized under extreme sports (Lapinski et  al., 2020). However, not everyone agrees with this classification. Indeed, the activity

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does involve an element of risk, the management of which has been linked to the pursuit of an escape from daily routine (Boiangin, 2020; Brymer et al., 2020; Cohen et al., 2018; Opaschowski, 2000; Willig, 2008; Kajtna et al., 2004; Woodman et al., 2010). The framing of scuba diving as an extreme sport reflects a broader, globalized discourse of adventure risk management, highlighting the complexities of categorizing activities that encompass elements of leisure, skill, and danger. This categorization becomes particularly relevant in an era where risk and its management are not only practical concerns but also symbolic markers of cultural values and social orientations. In one sense, the emphasis on safety that has come to dominate recreational scuba diving renders it exceptionally modern, given the nature of contemporary society that promotes capabilities in emergency situation management conceived as risks (Puchan, 2004; Creyer et al., 2003; Pain & Pain, 2005). This is a society that has defined itself as a “risk society” (Beck, 1992, 1999). Undoubtedly, the positive evaluation of individuals handling dangerous situations lies at the heart of modern social life (Brymer & Schweitzer, 2013, 2017; Buckley, 2018; Keller et al., 2021). Here, the individualization of risk-taking requires a greater individual responsibility for managing sudden threats (Anderson, 2006a, 2006b; Dean, 2012). Often, the individual management of risks is so positively assessed as a skill that it elevates to an ideological component guiding behaviors in both everyday life (Krokosz & Lipowski, 2022; Murray, 2003) and recreation (Kunwar, 2021). The dominance of the belief that effective risk management skills result from the fact that modern individualized society has lost part of the stability of its bonds and generates structural insecurity which is transferred to its members. This phenomenon is termed by Zygmunt Bauman as “liquid fear” (Bauman, 2006), an emotion increasingly affecting societies crossing the threshold of liquid modernity (Bauman, 2000). In this social condition, risk is inherent in the ability to calculate risks, as “Risks are the dangers whose probability we can (or believe that we can) calculate: risks are the calculable dangers” (Bauman, 2006: 10). In this social context, participants in activities based on bodily adventure in unusual circumstances, such as scuba diving, often perceive what they are doing as an exercise in risk management (Immonen et al., 2018), as a form of self-shaping (Brymer & Oades, 2009). The processes of forming a solid individual risk management capability are often linked with sports that occur in external, non-urban environments (Brymer & Gray,

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2009; Brymer et al., 2009). At times, these are highly commercialized and standardized practices, fully integrated into the contemporary tourism industry (Palmer, 2002), and thus are largely controlled by professional guides (Vliet & Inglés, 2021), who manage the desire for the enactment of freedom in adventurous recreational activities (Brymer & Schweitzer, 2013). This discourse permeates the perceptions of professional divers, who manage fluid fear and risks beneath the sea surface for recreational purposes (Hunt, 1995). As one professional working at a diving center mentions, “If you follow the rules told by your trainer or the organization providing this training, you are not at risk.” This is fully agreed upon by his colleague working at another diving center, repeating almost the same words: “If you go with the standards we have, with the standards we follow, there is no risk….” This discourse is not referring to an absence of risk, but to the possibility of effective control through training. The goal is to achieve the main purpose of recreational diving, the enjoyment of being in the blue depths, through effective control of any potential unforeseen situations. Anticipated and rational fear of the unknown can be restricted through good training, as another professional tells us, emphasizing that “fear is something natural when something is unknown to someone, and whoever does not know something fears it.” From this perspective, a problem can only arise when someone does not adhere to the existing rules in scuba diving. This is emphasized by his colleague, referring to underwater dangers: Like others activities, it may have a higher degree of risk because we are underwater and our air is limited. But when the right safety measures are taken, and the business itself ensures that the staff it hires adhere to certain safety standards, then diving is truly an easy and safe activity. […] That is, we start with theory, showing people who come what diving is, what the equipment is, what are the signs we use underwater, some small skills: how to equalize, how to clear our masks. So, we make it easy, enjoyable, we descend to a shallow depth where everything is controllable.

The aforementioned perspective is not confined solely to professional divers. Effective risk management is a common narrative in the accounts of amateur divers as well. As insightfully conveyed by a long-time resident of a Greek tourist island experienced in diving:

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There is indeed a significant level of risk. Diving is a sport where many things can go awry… and because once a mistake occurs there is no turning back, one must have their wits about them, as my grandmother used to say. You must be cautious and, above all, must have completed your training properly. That is, you should know at any given moment at what depth you are, how long you can stay there, or whether you have more time. Or how your equipment functions and why. Or if a mistake occurs, what can you do about it? How will your diving partner assist you if something happens? We mustn’t forget that we depend on our equipment, which has to be in perfect working order, but we also need to know our destination, otherwise it’s a risky sport. […] In diving, there are these safety rules, specific safety protocols which, if you adhere to them, you are quite safe.

However, the requisite skills for managing underwater risks go beyond mere adherence to safety rules. Safe diving, as a practice of effective risk management, is conceptualized by contemporary divers as a modern “technology of the self” (Foucault, 1984a, 1984b, 2001). It serves as a tool for shaping one’s self based on widely legitimized moral criteria. According to a former spearfisher turned avid diver: Diving definitely helps with your way of thinking and how you deal with extreme or dangerous situations in other aspects of life, because you must think—when a problem occurs—exactly as you were trained and follow steps 1,2,3,4. So it teaches you the composure that you will later need to deal with a traffic accident, or an accident in the mountains, or an accident involving a fire in your home. You gain composure. So, diving helps you in this aspect as well.

Thus, the practice of diving offers more than just adherence to safety protocols; it fosters a particular moral and psychological preparedness that is believed to have a broader implication in everyday life. In this matter, another amateur diver agrees, emphasizing that diving “puts you in a different mindset both in terms of safety issues and in terms of managing situations that are not as you would like, and certainly makes you see the world with a more positive eye.” Another enthusiast uses almost the same words to evaluate the benefits of scuba diving: “Generally [scuba diving] benefits you as a person even in your relationships with your fellow humans, with your family, you are more relaxed, you are more conciliatory towards them, you see life with a different eye.”

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From this perspective, danger is not simply something that the diver must effectively manage. It is something much more, an opportunity to exercise oneself to meet the contemporary criteria of reflective individuality. Only under these conditions, under the dominance of the ideology of safe diving but also beyond it, in the broader field of diving as self-practice, the adventurous immersion into the phantasmagorical blue world of the depths becomes what it is today, a captivating adventure that anyone can experience. The Care of the Underwater Embodied Self This globalized discourse also permeates professionals in Greece. Risk management presupposes a minimum care of the body in any analogous activity (Lyng, 2004). As a product promotion manager of a diving center in Crete mentions, “Certainly, a person engaged in diving must be in good physical condition. Not that someone who is not in good physical condition cannot dive, but it limits them in some ways; for example, a person who does not exercise and has some extra weight consumes more air in a specific time. These prerequisites do not refer to the physical skills of an athlete but of a person who knows what they are doing and takes care of themselves”. As she notes, “Certainly, there should be no abuse; it’s good not to smoke for the diver who is preparing, that is before he goes diving, there should be no alcohol consumption, there are quite a few things that must be done.” In the same vein, a colleague of the professional in another diving center notes, “We always say of course, ‘be fit, have a [good] diet, do not be overweight’, but essentially these are only guidelines and not requirements or specifications to be able to dive.” Diving presupposes a rational management of the body, within the framework of the preventive management of risk, as dictated by the ideology of safe diving. As an amateur diver mentions, referring to the primacy of safety, “a good diver is a living diver.’” The globalized ideology of safe diving impacts professional and amateur divers in Greece. Risk management is portrayed as more than a set of technical skills or requirements. It is a comprehensive approach that includes physical condition, lifestyle choices, and rational body management, framed within an ideological understanding of what constitutes safe diving. A common theme in this discourse is that when you intend to dive, do not stay up late, do not drink too much alcohol, and do not consume excessive food. These are not just athletic skills but also a necessity to think

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about your embodied self before, during, and after diving. Safety rules function as a well-processed technology of the self (Foucault, 1984a), available through standardized and globalized training. Care and preparation in an appealing environment where risk still resides are not limited to the body. They extend to the “psychological” preparation, to the broader care of the inner self. As an amateur diver characteristically notes, “I believe that just like a person exercises their body, they should also exercise their mind”. Another completely agrees, regarding the necessity of preparing both body and mind: “They should be well, rested, relaxed, and not anxious about diving”. Diving as a Captivating Multisensory Adventure The language of professionals and amateurs about risk management as an essential technique of the self (Foucault, 1984a, 1984b, 2001) reflects the legitimate representation (Bourdieu, 1991b) of the depths as a blue phantasmagoria, integrated into the world of leisure and tourism. The same discourse, more refined, followed by the globalized production of maritime leisure, runs through the advertisements of recreational dives from one end of the Earth to the other. The ocean depths are portrayed not merely as a physical space to explore but as a “blue phantasmagoria,” a multisensory, almost fantastical realm that captivates the human imagination. This portrayal is integrated into broader systems of leisure and tourism, contributing to a highly mediated experience. The legitimization of these experiences and spaces is part of a wider discourse that circulates globally, especially evident in the advertising sector of maritime leisure. These narratives serve both as a method of risk management and as an allure to engage more individuals in the practice of scuba diving. Analyzing slogans provided by various diving centers around the world, many of which are located in Greece, one can identify common elements, themes, and patterns that the overwhelming majority of such establishments draw upon to attract diver-clients. These themes generally encapsulate the emotions and embodied experiences associated with recreational diving and can be summarized in the following five categories, with sample excerpts from advertising spots provided in parentheses: –– Feeling, and Emotion of Diving, Sense of Personal Growth: Slogans such as “feeling deep emotions, filled with dreams,” “enjoyment,”

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“step into the blue to live the freedom that the scuba dive experience has to offer,” and “you will feel this sense of freedom and well-being amongst the fish” highlight the affective dimension of diving. Sense of Adventure, Discovery, and Exploration: Phrases like “blue adventures,” “diving-experience the adventure at the seabed,” and “discover scuba-full of life, the best way to dive in Crete: explore the blue crystal-waters of the Cretan sea” emphasize the explorative and adventurous aspects. Shared Experience, Interpersonal Connection, Inclusivity, Democratization of Experience, Guidance, and Professional Instruction: Slogans such as “diving is for everyone,” “dive with us and share precious family moments,” and “with an instructor, discover the extraordinary sensation of diving” focus on the social and educational aspects of diving. Cultural Heritage, Preservation of Memory, and Cultural Connection: Phrases like “discover the secrets, the beauty, and conserve historical memory” allude to the cultural and historical aspects of underwater environments. Eco-friendly, Sustainable Diving, Communion with Nature, Ecological Responsibility: Slogans like “experience the magic of the seabed easily, safely, and ecologically” bring attention to environmental stewardship in diving practices.

These five dimensions of discourse surrounding scuba diving as a form of recreation capture the key facets that define the conditions for the mobility of tourist-divers (Musa et al., 2010). The literature on evaluating their satisfaction relies on the entirety of these components (Musa, 2002). Analyzing the aesthetic geographies that define the realm of leisure, in our case through the aestheticization of underwater nature and the realization of an “honest experience,” we encounter the core elements of late emotional capitalism (Illouz, 2007). This model increasingly relies on the commerce of positive experiences (Cabanas & Illouz, 2018; Miles, 2021). Escaping from everyday life presupposes the calculated management of risk, which various experts secure through guidance or training. However, the ultimate goal is not safety, but pleasurable adventure. In addition, diving into the mesmerizing depths also means diving into oneself. The seabed, as an array of visual symbols for consumption, mediates and occasionally directs the divers’ underwater gaze, activates senses,

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and produces emotions that separate the time of diving from everyday life. Movement toward the seabed implies a movement into “another” embodied space-time, into an alternative condition of self. As one of our interlocutors, an amateur diver, elaborates: Diving is a very significant part of my life, so I try to allocate some of my free time to it. […] The world of the seabed is so enchanting that it sweeps you away, making you leave other activities behind to engage with it. In my free time, I had other pursuits that I abandoned because scuba diving captivated me. This was at the expense of other activities I previously engaged in, but the reason is that it is such a wonderful thing.

As a leisure activity, diving is above all about enjoyment, about separating yourself from the everyday. An amateur female diver articulated it this way: Free time means having a little time for yourself to do things that please you and fill you up, like a hobby. Diving […] is a choice. If you have chosen that you like it, you enjoy it.

Immersing oneself in the oceanic depths can be conceived as a second-­ order immersion (Tzanakis, 2015, 2016). This dive into the underwater realm transcends mere physical exploration; it simultaneously constitutes a dive into one’s embodied self. Achieving safety and pleasure by choice is accompanied by an exotic multisensory experience that imbues one with emotions. As one amateur diver comments, scuba diving is “a sport that calms you a lot, we like it, it relaxes, it is not tiring at all.” A sentiment shared by a female former professional diver who continues to dive recreationally: With what you do, you escape from everyday life even under the sea, […] just seeing something different with your eyes. It is the release of a person who wants to find themselves in a different environment and see different things, hear nothing but… only their bubbles and the sound of their heart.

The underwater adventure possesses profound somatic dimensions as the body becomes a nexus where flows of different ontological orders (ideas about nature, techniques of self, technoscientific applications, experiencing the body as an open sensory surface, etc.) intersect, shaping the exotic experience of the blue adventure. These sensory-rich impressions, laden with emotional stimuli, serve as forms of memory (Seremetakis, 1996).

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Functioning as mnemonic mechanisms, they continue to produce their paradoxical effects long after the dive, sometimes even years later. The blue phantasmagoria is not just an allure that beckons individuals to dive; it also represents a collective fantasy of a locus of well-being—a pool from which one emerges “a different person.” In line with the perspective of an amateur diver who has abstained from diving for an extended period, the experience is akin to entering an alternative realm, characterized by a detachment from everyday stressors and concerns. She explained: You think you’re in another world, you’ve left everything behind, you’ve dived and you’re not thinking of anything else, it’s like an anti-anxiety treatment. It takes you away from the problems, from everyday stress, it takes away your anxiety at that moment. Depending on how stressed you are in your daily life, it’s a very nice way to relax, a dive could work like that too. Sometimes you may have anxiety, but very beautiful images come to mind and relax you. Even though it’s been so many years since I dived, I think of it as if it were yesterday, I think about it and relax, I think of these images from the depths.

This experience of relaxation appears to be a prevalent motif among amateur divers, “to escape from his daily life, in his free time to relax and find a form of inner peace, tranquility,” because it acts “as an anti-anxiety treatment, away from anxiety, stress, away from work problems, from everyday life, […] it made you find yourself in a state of tranquility and absolute concentration,” according to another narrative. The shift toward a less stressful emotional state during diving correlates with the notion of “blue adventure,” signifying a journey to an alternative universe. Narratives from amateur divers often echo this sentiment, as another testimony: You are in a world that is changing, each dive is different, it is never the same,” “It is discovery, because when we dive each time it is something different, you never know what you will see, you always see something new […] because what we have on earth above with the mountains, the caves, the plants, there is just as much below the water, the life, the fish, the plants, the landscape, it is another world.

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The blue adventure consists of this perception of an “other world”; its allure is encapsulated in the multisensory experience of “being-there,” as emphasized by an amateur female diver: It is an adventure; it is a very nice experience. It can be a very nice dive; it can also be a mediocre dive, but if it is a very good dive, then it is indeed a very good adventure. The contact with another world is something magical, something different. It’s not just a gym where you will go, get tired, and get worn out. Yes, you will also exercise with diving, but you will gain something else as well. What I would like to say is that dives are indeed a very nice experience, and everyone should, at least once in their lifetime, take a dive and come in contact with the seabed and this different world.

Those who have tried it more than once become members of a globalized liquid community, with extensions in all parts of the world that are popular diving destinations. Divers who have lived the blue adventure have many things to share and often do so by leveraging modern forms of sociality. Communities In contemporary times, scuba diving involves a minimal economic cost and time investment, delineating its activity within specific economic and social boundaries. Simultaneously, the necessity for continuous education and equipment maintenance, as well as the ideology of safe diving encapsulated in the adage “never dive alone,” cultivates bonds and fosters an open, globalized community of enthusiasts. As one amateur Greek diver notes, “I can easily go abroad, present my credentials, and be accepted into a diving school because I possess an internationally recognized qualification that validates our knowledge.” Residing in a tourist destination, this middle-aged man frequently encounters divers from various parts of the world, especially when diving is conducted from a boat—a method requiring “much more time, maintenance, and money.” Utilizing a boat not only distinguishes the community but also diversifies its opportunities. The same informant claims that “surely the best dives are conducted from a boat because you have greater access, you can go deeper, the dive sites are better, and you are not near swimmers.” Diving from a boat with others strengthens the bonds with faceless enthusiasts whose underwater habits he knows well enough to

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anticipate, but whose real identities behind the diving masks he may never notice. As another amateur diver says, “In diving, everyone is one team; you have to operate like one team or with your partner… you meet various kinds of people, it’s a wonderful aspect and some enjoy learning from others, you learn a lot.” Within this extended community, experiences and memories from dives, capturing impressions of the enchanting underwater world, are shared. Social media deepen the character of this globalized and deterritorialized community. A former British instructor residing permanently in Greece remarks, “Especially now that we have Facebook, we have some acquaintances there; they post photos and I see what others are doing, the dives, and I also see the diving centers, and so on. Yes, you have something in common…” The blue fantasy is continually performed and reshaped through these images that capture the captivating blue underwater adventures.

Underwater Sensorium, Body, and Diving Equipment The use of technology in scuba diving is of pivotal importance (Straughan, 2012). The diver breathes compressed air (or a gas mixture either with a lower nitrogen-oxygen ratio or a mix of other gases with oxygen, such as helium), which is stored in tanks that are strapped to their body. The diver monitors the consumption of the expelled gas during the dive through a pressure gauge and tracks their depth by observing the depth gauge or diving computer. This latter device, utilizing mathematical models and algorithms, calculates the diffusion of nitrogen in the tissues and suggests decompression stops during the ascent to the surface. Dressed in specialized suits (dry or wet) for protection against the cold water, the diver engages a range of knowledge about underwater physics and body physiology under increased pressure conditions, as well as skills in equipment use, such as buoyancy control (Straughan, 2012). These individual dimensions are distinct in beginners, but over time acquire a sense of wholeness. The diver’s technobody is a condition that is gradually conquered through experience and familiarization with the deep sea. Then an overall embodied experience emerges based on the coordination of the senses of movement, breathing, and technological applications—essentially, an experience of the technobody itself. The underwater sensory regime and the corresponding emotional economy of recreational dives are the result of a “temporary cyborg” (Haraway, 1991; Featherstone

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& Burrows, 1995). It is an exemplary case of the integration of technology, body, and perception of the environment (Paterson, 2007) for a specific period, leading to a unique sense of autonomy, as well as the exploration of unfamiliar landscapes and exotic worlds, in an era that positively values exotic sea travels (Strang, 2005a, 2005b). Recreational scuba diving is both an immersion in water and in the embodied self. Yet, it is also something more: a brief journey on the border of the social and the cultural. It is an ontological voyage. Vision, or the underwater touristic gaze (Urry, 1990), plays a pivotal role in this voyage. The gaze enacts the blue phantasmagoria as it, as a flow of photographic-type images, intersects with the multisensory experience generated by the integration of body and technological equipment. The community of scuba divers is inundated with photographic representations that validate the phantasmagoric perception of the depths. This is a visualization that becomes verbalized, shaping the language through which the experience is communicated. As articulated by an experienced Greek amateur diver: I remember it, and when I bring it to my mind, it is a wonderful experience. You are really in another world; you go down, see the seabed, see the blue, it changes, it’s completely different from when you see it with the mask from above. It is truly enchanting, and I believe that everyone should take a dive, those who are not afraid, to enjoy it. […] It is truly enchanting, another world. That’s it.

The blue symbolizes in these words the magical, which can be experienced by anyone as a delimited excursion beyond everyday life, on the border of the social. Underwater Hyperreality? The intensity of technological mediation in shaping the underwater multisensory experience is such that the term “hyperreality,” in a broader sense, may not be inappropriate. The technobody of the diver constitutes the underwater condition of the underwater experience as it mediates the elements of the flows that shape it: the form of sensory stimulation, the mode of perception of the environment, and the sense of the divers’ capabilities (Straughan, 2012).

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For example, the mask influences underwater vision and perception. It affects vision, comfort, communication, emotional connection, and safety, all of which contribute to a more enjoyable and captivating underwater adventure. The mask allows divers to see clearly underwater by creating an air pocket in front of their eyes, thereby preventing water ingress but simultaneously distorting vision. The design and shape of the mask lens can influence the diver’s field of vision and peripheral sight. A wider lens design or panoramic mask can offer a broader view, thereby “enhancing” the overall underwater experience. Proper fitting is crucial for comfort, as it should correspond as closely as possible to the individual facial structure. A well-fitted mask prevents water from entering, allowing the diver to focus on the underwater environment and experience it without the annoyance of continuously clearing water from the mask. In this way, the mask influences the emotional connection with the underwater environment. By providing a clear view of marine life and the surrounding ecosystem, the mask enables divers to fully experience aquatic life, the colors, and the intricate details of the underwater world, thereby amplifying the overall diving experience, sense of safety, and self-confidence. The buoyancy control device (BCD) also shapes the experience of a scuba diver in various ways. Its primary function is to provide buoyancy control, enabling divers to achieve neutral buoyancy at different depths. The design and functionality of the BCD significantly influence the ease and precision with which buoyancy can be controlled underwater. A BCD that is well adjusted to the diver’s body ensures comfort and freedom of movement. The design and construction of the BCD influence stability and trim underwater. A well-designed BCD with a streamlined shape and efficient weight distribution helps maintain proper horizontal trim and minimize drag, enabling effortless movement and energy conservation during the dive. The use of the BCD presupposes coordination of breathing with the addition or removal of air. The sensation of “flying” underwater is based both on the air entering and leaving the BCD as well as the lungs. The enjoyment of comfortable “flight” requires the harmonization of lung function with that of the BCD. The diving computer, also known as a dive computer or dive watch, plays a significant role in shaping the experience of a scuba diver in several ways. Diving computers provide essential information for dive planning and safety. They calculate and display crucial data such as depth, time, ascent rate, decompression status, and remaining dive time. This

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information helps divers stay within safe limits, avoid decompression sickness, and manage their dive profiles effectively. Dive computers allow divers to monitor their current depth, elapsed dive time, and other important data in real time. This provides divers with immediate feedback on their diving parameters, enabling them to make necessary adjustments to maintain safe and comfortable diving conditions. Real-time monitoring also enhances situational awareness, allowing divers to react promptly to changes in conditions or emergencies. Dive computers provide accurate and personalized decompression information based on the diver’s specific dive profile and gas mixture. They calculate and display the necessary decompression stops, ascent rates, and safety stops required to safely ascend and off-gas the accumulated nitrogen from the dive. This feature helps divers manage their decompression obligations effectively, minimizing the risk of decompression sickness. Dive computers often have built-in logbooks that record important dive information such as dive profiles, depths, temperatures, and dive durations. These records serve as valuable resources for divers to review and analyze their diving history, track their progress, and identify trends or patterns. Logbook data can also be transferred to dive logging software or online platforms for further analysis and sharing with other divers. Dive computers are vital tools that provide critical dive information, assist with decompression management, and enhance safety and situational awareness. Their features, accuracy, and ease of use significantly shape the diver’s experience by providing valuable data, ensuring safe dive profiles, and facilitating efficient dive planning and execution. The regulator also provides pressurized air, ensuring underwater breathing. Its usage amplifies the sensation of underwater exploration in various ways. Bodily engagement in scuba diving is identified with breathing through the regulator. The presence of the regulator in the mouth alters facial sensations. The exiting bubbles create sounds that function as a sensory “musical” backdrop, enhancing the perception of the water/ landscape. At the same time, by visualizing the breath, it adds to the gaze the decoration of bubbles that surround recreational divers in the representations of the blue phantasmagoria that flood the world of diving tourism today.

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The Feeling of Flying In narratives from both professional and amateur divers, the reference to the absence of gravity and the sensation of flying predominates (see Photo 7.1). This is indicative of a sensory perception that more than any other defines the embodied experience of recreational divers (Straughan, 2012). It is no coincidence that from the era of Jacques Cousteau’s first public interventions, the absence of gravity has been promoted as the quintessential embodied experience of exploration in the blue expanse. In the inaugural documentary touchstone of diving history, The Silent World, produced in 1956 by Louis Malle and Jacques-Yves Cousteau, scenes exist in which sponge divers from Greece, the Dodecanese Islands, who dive using helmet suits, coexist with divers utilizing pioneering technoscientific applications from the crew of the Calypso. In an emblematic scene, a diver collecting sponges coexists at the bottom with two divers from Cousteau’s crew. This scene symbolizes two diverging worlds of diving. The solitary diver at the bottom works without adhering to safety

Photo 7.1  Technical scuba diver visit to the blue depths. Photo by Cristos Ladas

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protocols, enclosed in his heavy diving helmet, walking on the ocean floor, connected to the other people via the hose supplying him with air, and dependent for his very life on the crew aboard the ship on the surface. In contrast to this figure of the slow-moving laborer of the depths, two divers (the diving pair, a symbol of the safety in recreational diving), agile explorers, move quickly to the right or left, observing while flying across the bottom. Their perspective is defined by a horizontal position. The sensation of flying correlates with a bodily stance, with a viewpoint through which they see the underwater world panoramically. Perception of the seabed is simultaneously visual and kinesthetic. It is also synonymous with the ideological components of leisure, specifically pleasure. If possible, it also embodies the attainment of individual freedom, which materializes in the sensation of flying. As one amateur diver, who confidentially shared his experiences with us, specifically states, the seabed for him is: A magic world. Primarily, the feeling of weightlessness is unique; only astronauts and divers can experience it, no one else can. Beyond that, the calmness and tranquility offered by the underwater world is a sensation that you cannot feel in anything else.

A former professional diver who continues to dive as a hobby completely agrees: Underwater, where you have no weight, you have neutral buoyancy. I am free, and if you have good buoyancy, you can swim, but you can also stop and stay there. In other words, if you know how to properly adjust your buoyancy, it’s a bit like astronauts who are in space; they don’t have gravity. If you’re good and you know how to adjust your buoyancy well, you can go there and stop there. It’s a really wonderful thing. […] You don’t need ropes or anything, you need good buoyancy. It is a big part of my life, a very big part.

Beauty here is synonymous with a multisensory experience that aligns with the absence of gravity. Reiterative narratives, encountered in the exhortations of the pioneers of the 1950s, in the commercials of diving centers, and in the accounts of enthusiasts, emphasize this. As expressed by an amateur diver who dives systematically:

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Absolutely beautiful. You are in a condition of weightlessness, surrounded by water, and as the scriptures say, it’s a memory like when we are in our mother’s womb before birth. All of this brings an incredible sense of euphoria, serenity, and relaxation. After the initial times, as is normal in the first dives, everyone has a sort of anxiety to combine all these, the new knowledge, the body, to learn buoyancy, but once you conquer that, it’s an amazing feeling for the body in the water.

The awe for the underwater world is linked to the sensation of flying, which fills you with emotions, is pleasant, peaceful, relaxed, as well as giving enjoyable observations of the blue abyss. And a “sense of freedom”, from the weight of the body and social obligations encapsulated in it. As stated by another amateur diver: Specifically, I feel like flying; you are free if you have good buoyancy, as we say in diving. Buoyancy is the ability to stay in one place, neither sinking due to weight nor rising too much by inflating the jacket, the vest we wear, with air. If you have fairly good buoyancy, then you are at a point, which is neutral, it’s like flying, which is a very beautiful feeling because it is also very relaxing. Let’s not forget that even good divers do not use their feet too much for finning; a small thrust suffices, so you move forward, meaning the better you are, the more relaxing it is for you.’

Successful underwater flight enhances the totality of the underwater experience; it is its prerequisite. Contributing to this are training, diving experience, and familiarity with equipment, but also a paradoxical ability, often invoked by divers in Greece, which is “hydroviotita” (aquaticity). This represents a crossroads of localized maritime tradition, to a large extent invented, and contemporary recreational culture. A notion that serves as an intriguing socio-cultural artifact, encapsulating the interface between cultural history and individual experience in the realm of scuba diving in Greece. Aquaticity: Tradition, Senses, and Emotions Conversing with experienced scuba divers, particularly the pioneers, one word is frequently mentioned: hydroviotita, which translates as “aquaticity.” Although this term is utilized within specific communities of experts concerned with swimming and human-water interaction (Varveri, 2016; Varveri et al., 2015), it is not a widely disseminated concept. As Varveri

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(2016) notes, this term has been employed empirically by swimmers and coaches in aquatic sports, as well as in the broader realm of maritime activities, to describe characteristics like “comfort,” “performance,” “buoyancy,” and “tranquility.” For free divers in Greece, the term “aquaticity” refers to a diver’s ability to dive, sometimes at great depths, but more essentially, it speaks to the attainment of a state of mental calm and focus during the dive. The concept of aquaticity is also frequently employed within the sphere of scuba diving in Greece. It is used to describe the human skill of familiarizing oneself with the aquatic environment, the degree to which a person swimming or diving feels comfortable in water, and the extent to which the diver’s body movements are harmonious, reflecting the required mental tranquility. It begs the question of how “the motion of flight”, so passionately recounted in the narratives of scuba divers as the quintessence of journeying through the blue phantasmagoria, becomes a second nature, an underwater habitus (in the sense of Bourdieu, 1980a, 1980b). Indeed, in the aforementioned narratives, both professional and amateur divers who shared their underwater experiences frequently mention a pre-existing relationship with the sea. The pattern is specific, beginning with phrases like “I have been at sea since childhood,” or something similar, culminating in the fact that this either propelled or aided them in choosing to engage in scuba diving either as a hobby or as a profession. This pattern is based on the notion of continuity, on the evolution from swimmers to divers. As one amateur diver distinctively tells us about the prerequisites for engaging in the sport he is so passionate about, “you also have to have a specific familiarity with the sea.” Another interlocutor summarizes this pre-existing relationship with the sea, referring to his childhood: My relationship with the sea is very old, I remember myself in elementary school. Because I was in a village by the sea, we used to go every day and from a young age, we always had our heads in the water. My mother complained that my siblings and I always had sunburned backs, because we were constantly face down, looking at the bottom. So, over all these years, a bond has been formed, which could be like a marriage, only it can’t be broken.

Divers in Greece frequently explicitly refer to the concept of “aquaticity” when they want to describe the presence or absence of a pre-existing state of familiarity with seawater. In other words, they refer to a cultural and

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bodily skill that, when it exists, scuba diving is a simple extension of an existing disposition. It is a concept that encapsulates local perceptions of the degree of embodied self and liquid element connectivity: comfort, fluidity, performance, and tranquility in the water, even under conditions unnatural for land dwellers. One of the first divers in Greece, now of advanced age, emphasized how significant his previous personal experience with the sea was when describing the first period of certified training. His “aquaticity” aided him in not having any difficulties during training: I was at sea all day, I had aquaticity, which is something very important in diving.

The term “aquaticity” resonates as an encapsulated form of bodily knowledge and cultural competence, shaping how divers engage with the marine environment. It also serves as a point of identification and belonging, reinforcing the continuity between the individual’s early experiences with the sea and their eventual involvement in scuba diving. Thus, it emerges as a salient theme in the diver’s narratives, shaping their social and embodied practices in the underwater world. Indeed, one of the first things a scuba diving instructor will ask a prospective diver is their relationship with water, whether they know how to swim, how well, and how often they come into contact with water. Often, these are factors dependent on the place of origin, whether the candidate resides in a coastal area or frequently visits similar regions. Familiarity with water is considered an advantage that undoubtedly facilitates the training process. In conversation with an amateur female diver who has been active in the organization of an amateur divers’ association, she elevated this corporeal quality to a broader cultural tradition, stating that “the sea is in our DNA,” referring to the Greeks. This invocation of the collective aquaticity of the Greeks as an embodied skill that allows for the seamless enjoyment of diving in the sea refers to three distinct social processes: the transformation of the beach into a place of leisure, the view of aquaticity as corporeal capital, and the transformation of the seabed into a phantasmagoric place. The first social process concerns the historical shaping of the beach as a place of leisure (Corbin, 1994; Nikolakakis, 2017b; Urbain, 2003). It is a classic case of invented tradition (Hobsbawm & Ranger, 1983), where social change is later interpreted retrospectively as a long-standing

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tradition. A situation, in this particular case of the shift in perceptions and changes in relation to the beach, that is largely facilitated by specific state policies (Nikolakakis, 2016). Until the early twentieth century, people rarely swam for recreation, even in Greece with its long maritime and fishing tradition. The aquaticity that a large portion of the Greek population has is the result of the transformation of leisure time behaviors, and the turn toward the sea. The second social process refers to the exploitation of aquaticity within the framework of scuba diving as “bodily capital” (Bourdieu, 1980a, 1980b; Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992; Wacquant, 2022). Familiarity with the water element is a passport for smooth integration into the field of recreational diving. It is, therefore, an exploitable bodily quality, which can be improved through investment on the part of the future diver. The better one’s aquaticity, the better a diver is considered. The third process refers to the gradual transformation of scuba diving into a leisure activity. The pleasurable exploration in the blue phantasmagoria, the execution of underwater flânerie, presupposes comfort below the surface. The diver’s technobody, the heavy and complex assembly of equipment, biological body, and spirit, is feasible in its entirety only under the condition of comfort. Comfort in using the equipment, ease in adjusting the breath so that the body and BCD harmoniously collaborate with each inhalation and exhalation, allows for unobstructed underwater flight. The relaxed movement allows the wandering gaze to capture the underwater beauty, and the body to feel…

The Soundscape of Scuba Diving The soundscape of scuba diving constitutes a complex and immersive experience, deeply embedded within the core of human existence, the respiration. Submersion in aquatic depths allows one to discern the auditory reverberations of their own being, reminiscent of a solitary wanderer in an unfamiliar territory (Cotter, 2008). This phenomenon is epitomized by the rhythmic emission of bubbles with each exhalation. The phrase “me and my bubbles,” a prevalent expression within the diving community, encapsulates the unique relationship between the diver and their immediate, as well as historical, environment (Kato, 2009; Samuels et al., 2010). This respiration, laden with symbolic meaning, serves as the fulcrum around which a diver’s subaqueous realm rotates. Often, it offers a striking juxtaposition to visual stimuli, defining the seductive allure of the

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underwater landscape. This auditory experience acts as an ephemeral marker, reminding the diver of the transient nature of their presence in this captivating milieu. Beyond the Silence Alain Corbin, in his seminal work History of Silence (2016), posits that the mere absence or presence of auditory stimuli is insufficient to accurately delineate what constitutes “noise,” “quiet,” or “silence.” The latter is not a simple lack of sound, but rather a sensation shaped by complex flows of meaning and forms of perceptual understanding. A multitude of semantic flows and perceptual configurations, including their associations with other senses and emotional triggers, have collectively constructed the underwater sensorial regime (Helmreich, 2007). Listening to the “silence” is one of the precepts of recreational diving, although it remains a chimera. Achievable underwater silence is rare, occurring only at intervals—during breath-holds or in the cessation of movement. Nevertheless, divers invoke and pursue it to articulate both publicly and personally their ephemeral journey into the azure abyss. If the ocean floor serves as a recreational “taskscape” (Ingold, 1993, 2000), this occurs because it encapsulates the performative tasks of transitioning into an “otherworldly” realm purported to be “filled with silence”. This assumed absence of sound becomes something that divers are meant to “listen to” in a reflective manner. In the previously mentioned 1956 documentary The Silent World, a collaborative effort between Jacques-Yves Cousteau and Louis Malle, the opening scene features a group of divers descending from the sea surface toward the ocean floor, wielding ignited flares as if modern conquerors. This particular scene is notable. The source of the “noise” is the bubbles produced by the divers’ respiration. These bubbles move in the opposite direction to the divers: while the latter journey downward, the noisy byproducts of underwater breathing rise toward the sea surface. The underwater cameraperson, presumably located behind them, captures their voyage into the seemingly unfathomable blue. The underwater camera cuts through a “cloud” of air bubbles, documenting the noisy return of air to the surface. These bubbles, originating from the divers’ respiration, constitute a fundamental component of their auditory environment. This opening scene, pivotal in the history of modern imaginings of the ocean depths, acquaints us with a “world of silence” that is paradoxically noisy (see also Cousteau & Dumas, 1953).

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“The seabed is generally not a silent world (Helmreich, 2007). Sounds permeate the water’s surface and travel, albeit altered, to the auditory canals of divers. Noise is also generated by the underwater environment itself: marine currents shift sand, and waves often crash forcefully against rocks. Furthermore, living entities in the sea, such as fish and mammals, produce sounds either for communication among themselves or to deter predators. The underwater soundscape is rich in auditory stimuli unfamiliar to the human auditory system when compared to those on the surface. Sound propagates faster through liquid than through air, resulting in the diver’s inability to discern the direction of the sound source. This inability to ascertain direction is due to the differences in the arrival time of sound to the two auditory canals. For this reason, divers, similar to individuals with unilateral hearing loss, are not capable of perceiving the direction of sound. Additionally, because sound, as a form of wave, travels much faster underwater than in air, the perception of intensity and distance from the sound source is markedly different underwater. Consequently, novice divers are usually unable to accurately estimate the distance of the sound source. Even experienced divers find it challenging to pinpoint the direction of underwater sounds. Breathing, this invisible source of noise that we coexist with from birth until death, is usually placed in the category of “taken-for-granted sounds,” which we do not “hear” or pay attention to. Breathing constitutes a natural function but, as Marcel Mauss (2006) has taught us, it is part of socially organized body techniques, especially in intentional athletic activities (Allen-Collinson, 2016). Underwater, it becomes a site of risk as it transitions from a taken-for-granted body technique to a calculated practice. Breathing, in general, constitutes one of the most significant multisensory experiences, replete with social, cultural, and historical implications. Immersion, like any similar field of experience, is not merely a natural phenomenon; it represents a transition to a complex semiotic system that is the outcome of specific historical and social processes. This practice engages the senses in a symbolically determined manner (Gallagher, 2016). Specifically, technologically mediated underwater respiration aligns with the auditory experience of inhaling and exhaling, as well as the ascent of bubbles that emerge from the latter toward the sea surface. The embodied experience of scuba diving is inextricably linked to the sounds produced by the “unnatural” operation of breathing using technical means within the aquatic element.

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Specifically: (a) The use of a mouthpiece connects the body, particularly the oral cavity, with the rest of the respiratory apparatus. (b) Inhalation becomes audibly perceptible as pressurized air passes through the pressure regulator. (c) Exhalation becomes particularly noticeable as bubbles produce sounds themselves while exiting the regulator (depending on its type, either below the mouth, from the side, or, historically, from the back via the nozzle of the compressed air bottle), subsequently ascending toward the surface. The sensation of breathing underwater, facilitated by technical apparatus, differs profoundly from that on the surface. This is primarily because it constitutes a novel tactile experience, enabled only through mechanical means that alter facial movement (the mouthpiece of the pressure regulator). Breathing aligns with the air pressure regulator: the diver hears their inhalation as a dry mechanical sound and their exhalation likewise, accompanied by a slight tremor of the regulator as the exhaled air courses through the air passages of the lungs, oral and laryngeal cavities, and the silicon cavity of the regulator, before transforming into noisy bubbles seeking the surface, expanding as they ascend. This soundscape is characteristic of scuba diving in its historical form, from the 1950s to the present, an experience rooted in specific technological applications. The emotions recreational divers experience are directly connected to the activated sensations via specialized equipment and the manner in which the underwater environment is perceived—as a world removed from daily life, as a utilization of leisure time for extraordinary experiences. The sound of breathing in scuba diving, like the sound of the heartbeat in free diving, are instances of “sensorial flows” (Hamilakis, 2013), materialized within their social contexts. Referring back to the classical approach of social emotions in the French sociological school (Durkheim, 1985, 1995), we understand that auditory perception of biological functions is simultaneously an auditory experience of both the bodily and the social rhythm. Breathing produces not only sounds but also related multisensory experiences, which carry significant symbolism in scuba diving, which is conceived as a leisure activity, a hobby. Breathing thus becomes detached from the realm of the obvious and tends to symbolize the totality of underwater multisensory experiences,

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emphasizing the alien nature of the abyss. The sound of breathing, as the dominant sound in recreational scuba diving, gains its major social significance when linked to the interpretation of diving as an “escape” from the world of familiarity, a journey to “exotic” places, or a “return” to lost “nature.” In the authenticity of existence that has been altered, the auditory experience of diving offers an opportunity to reveal itself in all its sincerity. Underwater Breathing as Metaphor In the iconic 1967 film The Graduate, directed by Mike Nichols and featuring Dustin Hoffman, Anne Bancroft, and Katharine Ross, the auditory sensation of breathing underwater during scuba diving is poignantly utilized as a metaphor. The narrative revolves around a young graduate played by Dustin Hoffman, the offspring of a prosperous middle-class family. He is hesitant and ambiguous about his future, consistently avoiding discussions about his plans with those around him. As he rejects the prospect of continuing the family business, concern among his relatives intensifies. Simultaneously, a complex romantic subplot discloses secretive infidelities and potential illegitimate births that complicate Hoffman’s budding romance with Ross, a relationship that does not find its resolution until the film’s conclusion. The act of scuba diving in the movie metaphorically captures the contrast between a world perceived as deceitful, hypocritical, and tarnished, and the protagonist’s pursuit of authenticity and genuine human connection. Here, the act of diving represents an escape, intertwined with the inherent symbolism of breathing—a duality of life and genuine engagement with others. During a pivotal scene, on the protagonist’s birthday, his father gifts him scuba gear along with spearguns, reflecting a period when the line between recreational diving and spearfishing was blurred. Under familial pressure, he dons the gear and dives into the family pool amidst an audience of party guests. As the scene unfolds, viewers are submerged in the vivid sound of his breathing, replicating the diver’s own auditory experience—a stark contrast to the externalized sounds in Jacques Cousteau’s 1957 film. This immersive auditory experience metaphorically isolates the protagonist from the cacophony of societal expectations and obligations. Underwater, voices of pressure and persuasion are muted, replaced by the muffled dominance of his own breath. The weight of societal conformity

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and familial expectations momentarily fade, replaced by a journey into introspection. A subsequent scene beautifully mirrors this sentiment: Hoffman’s character is observed through an aquarium, seemingly deep in thought, as family and friends below anticipate declarations regarding his future. Within this aquatic enclosure, a decorative scuba diver emits a continuous stream of bubbles. This figure and its rhythmic bubbling resonate with the protagonist’s internal contemplation. Musically, the film’s soundtrack amplifies its themes. Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” serves as a haunting backdrop, possibly wanting to take advantage of this transfer of noise-corruption and oppressive sociability and the need for individual escape, when the individual melancholic seeks a silent escape from expression that ultimately leads to personal rebellion. Initially released in 1964 on the album Wednesday Morning, 3  AM, the song gained considerable recognition through its association with the movie. Serving as the film’s anthem, it underscores the protagonist’s yearning for escape and eventual personal defiance. The climax sees the protagonist challenging societal norms, choosing love and autonomy over familial expectations. Here, the initial metaphor returns with potency. As the final scenes unfold, the seething expressions of the family starkly contrast the protagonist’s newfound clarity—faces contort in anger, yet no voices are heard, echoing the profound silence beneath the water’s surface.

Sensorial Flows and the Desire to Be Elsewhere In line with Schwartz’s (2011) assertion, the human body is conceptualized as a dynamic entity that reclaims its integrity through practices such a diving. It perpetually oscillates between the biological realm—characterized by the corporeality bestowed at birth—and the historical and individual domains, where lifestyle choices and identity come into play. The body thus becomes a canvas upon which life experiences are inscribed, subjected to a continual regime of trials and tests for shaping and re-shaping. In this context, recreational scuba diving serves as an embodied examination. Its purpose is manifest in how individuals perceive the multisensory underwater experience, a significant facet of which is the act of respiration. Here, the societal imperative for risk management takes form

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through an enjoyable exercise of reflexive immersion, not only into the oceanic depths but also into the depths of subjectivity itself. The undulation of waves and the humming of bubbles emanating from the mouth through the regulator, the observation of their journey from the lungs to the surface, the absence of gravity, and the sensation of floating are all experienced as facets of a multisensory experience of being “down there”—an “elsewhere” contrasting with everyday life. This “elsewhere” is filled with emotions as the liquid element exhilarates the diver, on their journey through the depths, with alternating shades of a differently colored world. An experienced amateur diver speaks about the emotions they feel when submerged: The emotions down there vary […] it impresses you how different colors are without light, below ten meters where green and blue dominate. The deeper the dive, the more emotions come into this process because even the act of looking upwards and not seeing the surface at all can be shocking for some. Essentially, asking oneself, ‘how far have I come down here?’ But it is extremely beautiful; it is among the most interesting activities I have ever done in my life and I have no regrets. The fact that I can control my movements—that is, self-control—and that even though I am in an alien environment, I can adapt to it and become one with it. About 10% could also be fear, not the fear of something happening to me, but fear of the unknown. This depends on how comfortable someone feels in the water. Everything else is pleasure; it is the joy of exploration.

As Hamilakis argues, “sensorial flows should include, not only substances, materials, and ideas but also sensorial processes such as tactility, affective interactions, and mnemonic experiences, lived, recalled, or narrated collectively” (2013: 202). The saltiness and freshness of the water, the sensation of weightlessness, the kinesthetic sense of movement in the three dimensions of the liquid element, the panoramic and observational visual experience of the seabed seen as something worth experiencing, are individual aspects of a holistic fluid experience of immersion. Senses, emotions, and collective representations are activated and simultaneously stimulate and activate one another. Like a neural entity whose operation is based on the constant flows of energy, the ceaseless synapses, diving mobilizes a historical dispositif of energy transfer between thought, technobody, and environment. The final result is the binary experience of

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“here”—“elsewhere” (Straughan, 2012), which we see repeatedly in the narratives of amateur divers. As a devoted amateur diver notes: Leaving the surface and being on the seafloor for about half an hour to forty minutes, you are in an environment completely foreign to what a normal person experiences. […] The scenery you see has nothing to do with what we see on the street, on the mountain, or anywhere else. You are in an environment where gravity does not exist or you control it as much as you want to achieve the depth you want to dive, and of course, the colors we are used to seeing outside do not exist. Naturally, the population you will meet, whether harmless or dangerous, has nothing to do with what we experience in everyday life.

The experience of being there, at the depths, aligns with both an escape from everyday life and a presence in another world. The creatures that inhabit this space are different. This journey is synonymous with the search for a lost authenticity, which could potentially be found in the liquid landscapes of underwater leisure. Much like tourists in the late twentieth century sought to reclaim the lost meaning of a diversified industrial society through the lives of “others”—other peoples, other cultures, other places (MacCannell, 1999; Nikolakakis, 2022)—so do recreational divers explore the underwater-attraction and simultaneously themselves (Bruner, 2005). To some extent, this is to restore the fragmentation of human existence (Berman, 2009). The blue phantasmagoria, a flood of images of a captivating underwater world, has already fueled social representations and colonized the collective imagination of mobile divers. Underwater exploration is to some extent a validation of the fantasy of the blue journey into the depths, the pristine world of aquatic life. However, the underwater experience as a convergence of horizons and as a confluence of flows (sensory, material, mnemonic, technological…) is always something more. As Seremetakis (1996) argues, the experience of relation to materiality is by definition excessive, as this material surface— here, the sea floor and the technobody within the liquid body of seawater—becomes invested with one’s sensory receptions, henceforth functioning as an active mnemonic mechanism. The quest for underwater blue authenticity can indeed be considered an illusion, a point echoing MacCannell’s 1970s framework of the “dialectic of authenticity”, whereby a paradoxical validation occurs through the

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symbolic desecration and alteration of every sight perceived by Western travelers as authentic, genuine, and unalienated, transforming it into a tourist attraction (MacCannell, 1999). This quest for authenticity is further complicated by policies that transform entire areas into tourist sights (Buck-Morss, 1987; Nikolakakis, 2016, 2019; Triantis, 2018, 2020), as in our case with the organization of diving parks, underwater museums, and the creation of artificial reefs. This process is also commodified, as discussed by scholars like Cohen (1988) and Olsen (2002). However, scuba diving as a generalized practice seems to produce surpluses of experience that emerge precisely because of the commodification of emotions and sensations. The history of scuba diving in Greece indicates that what we are dealing with are two parallel, sometimes mutually reinforcing, processes: the commodification and politicization of man’s relationship with the sea and the broader natural environment. Within this surplus of experience coated with the ideological veneer of self-integrity restoration through diving, one can identify symbolic outcrops, or deficits in the commercial circuit. If scuba diving is indeed a humanistic method (Jue, 2020), it is perhaps due to these surpluses of experience (Seremetakis, 1996), which fuel the collective imaginary with ecological sensitivities about the consequences of human overactivity in the oceans and seas. A sensitivity owing both to the power of blue phantasmagoria and the dialectics of authenticity—that is, the debunking that occasionally accompanies divers in their quest for a nature that is untouched, unpolluted, unalienated. This debunking not only leads to disillusionment when the promises of encountering an unalienated underwater world are shattered but also mobilizes, within the framework of a pleasure ethic enriched by ecological sensitivities as posited by MacCannell (2011), an adventurous journey into the blue elsewhere.

CHAPTER 8

Pleasure and Aquastalgia

As the archaeology of our thought easily shows, man is an invention of recent date. And one perhaps nearing its end. If those arrangements were to disappear as they appeared, if some event of which we can at the moment do no more than sense the possibility—without knowing either what its form will be or what it promises—were to cause them to crumble, as the ground of Classical thought did, at the end of the eighteenth century, then one can certainly wager that man would be erased, like a face drawn in sand at the edge of the sea. Michel Foucault (2002) [1966]. The Order of Things. An Archaeology of the Human Sciences, Routledge, p. 422.

Recreational scuba diving has gradually shaped itself into an enjoyable adventure in the underwater realm, interpreted as a world distinct from terrestrial landscapes. The presence of divers on the sea floor, for a limited period, enabled by advanced technoscientific applications accessible to the general public, results in a rich multisensory experience directly connected to contemporary practices of self. However, this is also increasingly linked to mounting ecological concerns. Underwater exploration focuses on the observation of aquatic life, which is conceived as an integral component of the water/landscape of diving. What is understood as a temporary “return” of humans to nature problematizes the human-environment relationship and is deeply influenced by current ecological understandings. Alongside the hedonistic embodied multisensory experience, there develops an © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Tzanakis, Scuba Diving Practices in Greece, Leisure Studies in a Global Era, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-48839-9_8

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ecological sensitivity concerning the vulnerability of the underwater environment. Human hyperactivity, including that involved in recreational scuba diving, is perceived as a threat to this underwater world. This emerging ecological sensitivity enriches the collective imaginary concerning the human-water environment relationship and leads to the development of an underwater ethic that modifies diving practices. Thus, diving practices aiming for enjoyable exploration in the blue phantasmagoria are imbued with aquastalgia, a painful yet nostalgic gaze at the damaged underwater environment.

Beyond the Sea Blue Water The sea as part of “nature” constitutes one of the foundational mythic figures of modernity. At times the boundary of Western civilization, crossing its surface was a necessary precondition for the conquest, and occasionally subjugation, of the rest of the planet. Through colonialism, the Earth became truly round, a spatially finite territory of human activity and the domain for the expansion of globalized capitalism. Until the first half of the twentieth century, the planet’s natural resources were largely considered inexhaustible, a belief legitimizing the perspective of conquering nature. A nature upon which industrial civilization exerted such an intensity of influence that it spawned a romantic conception of it, considering all things natural as sources of authenticity. From the nineteenth century already, Western civilization directed its interest toward nature to satisfy needs that were no longer related to productive wealth but rather to engagement with the authentic. The gradual transformation of nature into a field for the rejuvenation of body and spirit, both individual and collective, is a parallel civilization process at the core of leisure culture (Kaufman, 1997). Whether as a symbolic return, as the restoration of a morally charged continuum (health-­ illness, daily life-free time, city-countryside, etc.), or as the source of a normativity that human beings “ought” to follow to achieve peace, health, tranquility, and happiness, nature defines the symbolic boundaries of a new world of leisure (Pronovost, 1997: 40–41). Gradually, from the late twentieth century onward, contact with nature acquired the dimension of ecological concern. Nature is no longer merely the source of authenticity, the force which restores the souls damaged by the alienating impact of culture among the members of the bourgeois strata of the West. It is also a sensitive system that human overactivity can

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irreparably harm. The seas and ocean depths visited by scuba divers, the shores where holidaymakers cool off in the summers, the forests and high mountain peaks where daring climbers ascend constitute a system that has already been damaged by human activity on a global scale. It is the era of solastalgia. In relation to the emerging sensitivity about the state of the seabed, it is the era of aquastalgia. The Ecological Problematization of the Greek Depths The emergence of an ecological dimension in the history of scuba diving in Greece is not a novel development. It is already evident in the first constitution of the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activities (EOUDA). In the article concerning purposes, Article 5, point (d) explicitly mentions the aim as the “protection by all lawful means of the world of marine animals” (EOUDA’s Statute, 1962). The previous aims primarily pertain to the development of sport and amateur fishing. However, this is not a contradiction. The highlighting of the importance of protecting marine life seems to be more closely linked to the need for scientific research of the sea, without precisely clarifying what exactly constitutes its scientific nature. Particularly, scuba diving, as an innovative practice grounded in advanced technoscientific applications, appears in the first decades after World War II as an intrinsic factor for social modernization. Its development tends to be considered as a specialized sector for exploring the seabed, something that is positively evaluated. Even the exploitation of underwater productive resources does not conflict with the spread of scuba diving. Moreover, diving technology has been utilized in numerous instances in the most impactful human interventions, such as the extraction of fossil fuels from ocean floors, from the first post-war period to the present day. At this time, fishing for recreation or even as a sport, whether underwater or surface, has not yet been problematized from an ecological perspective. Recreational fishing, or within the context of athletic competition, is a justified and widely practiced activity. Underwater fishing, in particular, has expanded broadly in Greece since the 1960s. Specialized media, particularly the Ypovrychios Kosmos magazine, are devoting the majority of their issues to underwater fishing. A steadily growing population, overwhelmingly male, combines its summer vacations with fishing. The prohibition of fishing using respiratory equipment, as mentioned in previous chapters, came very early, in the early 1960s. However, this

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prohibition does not seem to inhibit the use of scuba gear for fishing. Even though it is an illegal practice, it continues to be implemented without being morally condemned. However, gradually, references in specialized media about the pollution of the seas and the degradation of the underwater environment due to human overactivity begin to increase, especially from the 1970s. Alongside the “dead fish” hanging on the harpooners’ markers, clear evidence of pride and the cause of readers’ envy, articles appear drawing attention to the vulnerability of the underwater environment. Most articles or special features initially concern foreign scientists, marine biologists, and environmentalists, whose studies validate the possibility of an impending ecological crisis. It is crucial to note the complex interplay between recreation, legality, and ecological consciousness. While underwater fishing has been an ingrained part of Greek culture since the 1960s, the ecological ramifications are starting to punctuate the discourse. This suggests a gradually changing social consciousness, which may be reflective of broader global conversations about ecological sustainability and human interaction with marine ecosystems. These references to marine ecology specialists will remain a minority for some time, constituting an ecological ornament in the pantheon of fishing achievements of capable men. Gradually, however, they will intensify, acquire significant meaning, and become incorporated into the gaze with which an increasingly larger portion of the Greek diving community views the seabed. Underwater exploration will gradually be accompanied more and more by ecological concern, which will permeate the way divers understand what they do, both as individuals and as members of a species. The editorial of the magazine Ypovrychios Kosmos, on page 3 of issue 125 from 1982, is titled “Before It’s Too Late.” Among other things, it states: We are faced with an unfolding tragedy. A tragedy that involves the destruction of the sea, due to criminal human activity and short-sighted government policy. […] Prompt intervention by the relevant authorities in matters concerning the exploitation of our seas must have soon carried out, as well as the study of a new protection program, even if it affects existing professionals and (why not) amateurs.

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This observation today seems familiar. We confront it with stoicism nowadays, as the discourse on climate change and impending ecological catastrophe dominates public speech and collective imagination. In the case of recreational diving, however, the above text signifies more than early sensitization; it captures a shift in perspective. In the same issue, we find two references to a new diving school, a landmark educational point in the country’s diving tradition. The first reference is a comprehensive presentation of the school in the form of an article (p. 5), where the author claims that it is the first school operating based on the new diving education regulations. The second reference pertains to the publication in the form of an informal advertisement of the following festive announcement related to the Christmas and New Year period: “[The training director] wishes divers good dives and spear fishers good catches.” This wish also reflects the change in perspective previously discussed. Spearfishers fish, divers simply dive. In any case, the wish serves as a symbolic demarcation; it seems to be unacceptable for divers to fish. The editorial of the magazine seems to imply the same thing when calling for protective measures for the seas that may affect “amateurs,” evidently restricting some recreational activities. This represents a clear departure from the publication in the second issue of this magazine from June 1971, where on page 5 we read the following protest from the editorial committee against the prohibition of fishing with the use of breathing apparatus, which, as we saw in the previous chapter, was institutionalized by the Greek state from the early 1960s: In Greece, however, underwater hunting with breathing devices is prohibited, despite our numerous islands and 16,000 kilometers of coastline being the ideal motivation for attracting youth who could engage in underwater fishing using breathing devices. Thus, the progress of diving is halted.

The reasons for the prohibition of fishing with scuba gear are not understood. The ban is compared to what happens in other countries, such as Australia, where underwater activities are completely free. Even underwater weddings have taken place amid sharks, as noted in the article. Arguments about what happens elsewhere and what could potentially occur in Greece do not conceal any ecological concerns. Marine resources continue to be considered inexhaustible, much like in the nineteenth century at the onset of the industrialization of fishing.

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It is perhaps no coincidence that in this specific issue from 1971, there is an extensive multi-page reference to maritime tourism (pp. 24–27), with no mention of diving activities. The article pertains to small cruises to the islands, opportunities for utilizing smaller and larger vessels, beaches for bathing, small recreational boats, the tourist infrastructure of coastal destinations, and other related matters. Yet, there is no reference to the seabed. Recreational scuba diving has not yet been incorporated into the tourist domain in Greece. In the last two decades of the twentieth century, scuba diving is understood as an activity at the interface of specific social fields: fishing, recreation, sports, and underwater research. The seabed has not yet been fully transformed into a phantasmagoric space of indulgent flânerie; nor have ecological sensitivities crystallized that would later be encapsulated in the experience of underwater exploration. It is a transitional era of confusion. Ecological awareness will come as a continuation of two specific processes that mediate the touristization process: the aestheticization of the seabed and the development of a morality of recreational diving. A Sensitive Taskscape The sea constitutes a vital element of social reality, as it has become a medium that underscores the interconnection of social, cultural, and environmental dimensions of contemporary life (Jue, 2020). On its fluid surface, traditional boundaries between the cultural and the natural, the authentic and the alienated, and the healthy and the pathological are reflected. The plethora of human waste thrown into the sea, as well as interventions in the ocean depths for recreation, accelerate the “saturation” of the aquatic element by the influences of social life (Jue & Ruiz, 2021). The blurring of boundaries through the expansion of human interventions enhances the sense of risk, which constitutes a structural element of the social dynamics of late capitalist modernity (Beck, 1992). The emerging underwater ecological sensitivity transforms the world of the depths, with its vividly colored reefs, diverse marine life, and historical shipwrecks—conceived as cultural heritage—into a new political taskscape (Ingold, 1993). This links scuba diving with the “heritization of nature” as well as broader environmental challenges concerning the human relationship with underwater landscapes (Ingold, 2000). Diving becomes a complex taskscape, including not only the individual act of diving (and the associated post-dive reflections and narrative and photographic sharing of

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experiences on social networks) but also collective interactions with marine life. All these activities are embedded in a socio-cultural and environmental framework, contributing to the broader history of human relations with the sea. The marine environment is not a passive backdrop for human activities but a dynamic and responsive taskscape, affected by and affecting human actions. In the summer of 2023, the country’s largest telecommunications company launched an advertising campaign under the framework of corporate responsibility, entitled “Blue,” with the main slogan being “We are taking action to protect our blue seas.” The campaign pertains to a three-­ year educational and support program for Greek fishermen to collect a large portion of plastics found at the bottom of Greek seas. According to the related website: With the help of professional fishermen and by making use of over 45 fishing boats from ENALEIA’s network, we collect plastic from the seabed and hard-to-reach coasts in the Argo-Saronic Gulf, the Thermaic Gulf, Chalkidiki, and Crete, areas accounting for over 40% of the plastic found in Greece. (https://www.cosmote.gr/cs/cosmote/en/blue.html, accessed August 29, 2023)

In a two-minute video, aesthetically impressive and accompanied by imposing music, the viewpoint of the intoxicating blue phantasmagoria is summarized in its Greek version. “Our blue seas,” traversed since time immemorial by daring travelers (like Odysseus and the Argonauts), home to peculiar creatures (like mermaids and sirens), and filled with myths about submerged cities (like Atlantis), appear to be “at risk.” The purpose served by the plan is for the blue of the sea to “not become another myth.” Here, the color blue symbolizes purity, aesthetic perfection, and the mystical liquid element that surrounds us, connecting us to our collective past. The figures dominating the advertising campaign are also replete with symbolism. A young boy and a young girl reading about the lost Atlantis and the adventures of Odysseus, fishermen with facial anatomies similar to ancient statues, onboard a traditional boat (“kaiki”). A diver hovers amidst a blue chromatic extravaganza, in a scene filled with sensuality. The campaign serves as a material manifestation of complex socio-­ cultural constructs, mythologizing the maritime landscape while ironically attempting to rescue it from its threatened status. Through the interplay

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of aesthetics and symbolism, it taps into national and collective consciousness to reinforce the importance of environmental protection, albeit as a part of a corporate strategy. The campaign’s invocation of cultural and historical imagery, such as Odysseus and Atlantis, functions both as an aesthetic touchpoint and as a poignant reminder of the sea’s vulnerable state. A new female diver appears, her gaze lingering on the open sea before submerging into the aqueous expanse. Her visage seems to symbolize a new spirit of exploration. Suspended in an upright position in the midst of endless blue waters, she contemplatively locks eyes with a dolphin. The creature reciprocates her gaze in a paradoxical coupling of stares. However, the ambiance darkens when, suspended between the diver and the marine creature—wise yet ostensibly fragile—a plastic bag floats. This object becomes an out-of-place artifact of human civilization, or “matter out of place” as Douglas (1966) would categorize it, tarnishing the blue purity of the ocean. The diver retrieves this anthropogenic waste and hands it to a waiting fisherman at the ocean’s surface, aboard a traditional fishing boat, mirroring the actions of a scuba diver featured at the end of a two-­ minute film. In one of the central photographs of this environmental campaign, this scene of waste retrieval recurs, with the female diver donning scuba gear. Initiatives by divers to collect waste from the seabed have intensified in recent years. Dive centers, amateur diver associations, and self-organized groups have been cleaning portions of the Greek seabed, typically in the frequently visited beaches of coastal cities. I personally participated in one such initiative in the summer of 2022. A group of four divers, with the aid of a small boat, collected enough waste from a seabed near Rethymno, Crete, to fill the bed of a small truck. During the act of diving, individuals become part of this unfolding maritime narrative, with each dive leaving an imprint on this temporally evolving taskscape. The collective experience of diving, catalyzed by the proliferation of recreational scuba diving over the past seven decades, progressively shifts the focus from the exploration of cultural boundaries to the problematization of dichotomies. Nature and its fauna possess their own wisdom; the aquatic environment is not merely their natural biotope but also a condition for the survival of humans as a species, and of culture as we know it. Consequently, diving practices aimed at the pleasurable exploration of this blue phantasmagoria are imbued with a sense of “aquastalgia”—a

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term that encapsulates a feeling that is both painful and nostalgic. It is a gaze directed at an underwater environment already at risk, and one that we are “obliged to preserve.”

Underwater Aesthetics Perhaps the first step toward adopting an ecological perspective on the underwater world lies in aesthetics. This viewpoint, emerging from the pleasure of observation, perceives marine creatures not as consumable resources but as entities worthy of admiration. The experience of observing and momentarily co-existing with these marine entities, intrinsically linked with recreational scuba diving, constitutes the core of this transformative process. In such a gratifying experience, an amateur female diver highlights the enjoyment of being “down there,” a transient part of the magic world of the seabed: You understand the nature of the seabed, you see fish differently, you see marine plants, you see many things, and you’re impressed, because it’s different when you see them in their own environment. Fish swim beside you, especially if you sit still and simply observe, you see the whole world of the seabed. It’s a wonderful contact and thus as an observer, you seem to be incorporated. I remember a grouper that was huge and also very impressive. We had descended quite a bit, and it sat there and looked at us, and I said, look at what’s happening. It was also a very nice experience. I believe everyone should have contact with nature, with the sea and with nature more broadly, because it also calms you down and it’s a very nice outlet.

The contact with nature aligns with a flood of emotions, stemming from the immersion of the diver’s technobody in the blue phantasmagoria. One amateur diver narrates an emotionally charged diving experience, the presence within nature, and the underwater landscape filled with seabed creatures: The tranquility offered by diving is also unique; the feelings of euphoria and admiration for all you see, whether it’s an underwater cave or an unusual rock or marine life, apart from fish you can see octopuses, morays, corals, lobsters, shrimps; say you enter a cave and see that the ceiling is filled with small red shrimps, it’s something that can only give you enthusiasm, you

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want to shout from your excitement so much. These are generally the emotions that diving offers you.

The same narrator, a middle-aged man consistently engaged in recreational diving throughout the year, equates the essence of this activity with contact with nature: Diving is synonymous with nature; that is, you find yourself in what is for me the absolute natural world, which is the least burdened, at least still here in our Mediterranean seas, and especially those of Greece and Corfu, and you find yourself in an absolute natural world with its fauna, its flora, its fantastic colors, which you don’t see on land.

The spectacle of the sea floor is synonymous with the authenticity of the seawater, with which divers have the unique opportunity to come into substantive contact (see Photo 8.1). This underwater environment, endangered by human intervention, offers opportunities for unique experiences. At the edge of the abyss the very limits of recreation, as a form of human social life that extends through exploration, can be observed. There, with awe, we can behold marine life, a flow of remarkable living beings that exist independently of humans. As the same narrator describes:

Photo 8.1  Fish and starfish on a multicolored rock, at the seabed. Photo by Cristos Ladas

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I had gone with my friends to Lefkada several years ago, and we had gone solely for that purpose, meaning we took two dives per day. One of these dives was in an underwater gorge located on the southern tip of Lefkada, which had obviously been formed by some earthquake. I remember vividly that we were sitting on the edge of a rock, and just below was a chasm that you couldn’t see where it ended, as if you were at the top of, let’s say, the Vikos Gorge and were looking down into the void. We had sat there on the edge of the rock and were watching the marine life that passed below. This is a moment I will always remember. It was a spot that had a lot of fish and large fish; it was a spot where there was intense fish circulation, the currents mingled there, warm with cold, and wherever currents mix, there are a lot of fish, not only in quantity but also in size.

This account illustrates the deep connection that divers can forge with marine environments, thereby framing the sea as a complex socio-cultural landscape. The experience narrated further underscores the importance of preserving such natural habitats from anthropogenic threats, as they serve as realms where the boundaries of human social life extend into unfamiliar yet enlightening territories. The encounter with marine animals, which the first statute of EOUDA explicitly proclaimed would be protected by any legal means, constitutes life experiences for subsequent leisure divers at the dawn of the twenty-­ first century. These are gratifying experiences that form mnemonic imprints that follow them onto land. Continuing, the same diver describes such an encounter: In another one of my most beautiful dives, I remember that as we entered a cave, we encountered a seal that was exiting at that time. The seal, of course, panicked and sped away like a torpedo. But later, during our exit, while turning back to see the blue light forming at the mouth of the cave, I had sat on the sandy bottom and had relaxed to the point where I was almost ready to fall asleep.

A similar testimony was confided to us by another amateur diver, of approximately the same age, who also declares a deep love for scuba diving: For me, the pinnacle was when we randomly saw a sea turtle at a depth of around 35 meters. It was something unprecedented for me; we even got extremely close to it. The turtle looked old and large, and seeing this creature so close in its natural habitat was very exciting for me. It’s an experience I will never forget.

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These types of testimonies refer to the semiotic substratum that emerges from the aestheticization of the sea floor. This aestheticization pertains not only to the creatures of the deep but also to the underwater landscape. Its problematization as ecologically sensitive is based on this prior aesthetic sensitization, which is directly connected to the conceptualization of the sea floor as a blue phantasmagoria. The connection between aestheticization and subsequent ecological sensitization is not causal; it is historical (Griffiths & Mack, 2007). It is the result of specific social developments, described in previous chapters, through which leisure divers have reached the point of even considering forms of drastic intervention at the sea floor, sometimes as a result of pollution, as spectacles (see Photo 8.2)—landmarks of a blue symbolic language.

Underwater Ethics and Moralities The underwater environment, laden with symbolic meaning (Hodder, 1982), is problematized as a sensitive ecosystem, rather than solely a physical space that serves as a symbol of adventure, beauty, and mystery. The environmental condition informs divers’ attitudes and experiences (Orams, 1999), providing them with semantically loaded information that helps distinguish between animals and humans, as well as what it means to be a living organism (Ingold, 2022). While it might be somewhat overstated to argue that the accumulation of collective diving experience, particularly through the global dissemination of recreational scuba diving, leads to a deconstruction of strict boundaries between humans and animals—especially as conceptualized in a Western thought, it certainly contributes to questioning the Cartesian dualism that separates human from animal in Western perception of the world. Divers physically immerse themselves in a realm traditionally perceived as “nonhuman” or “other,” thereby blurring the boundaries between human domains and wild nature. The embodied experience of diving can pave the way for a more integrated and holistic understanding of marine environments. By being physically present in the underwater realm, divers can potentially develop a more nuanced and empathetic perspective, recognizing marine life not as mere objects or spectacles, but as beings with their own agency and lifeworlds.

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Photo 8.2  Diver on a motorcycle that has been abandoned on some seabed in Greece. Photo by Cristos Ladas

Alongside the hedonistic, embodied multisensory experience evolves an ecological sensibility regarding the vulnerability of the underwater environment. Human hyperactivity, including recreational diving, is perceived as a threat to this underwater environment. This emerging ecological sensitivity enriches the collective imaginary concerning human-water environment relationships and leads to the development of an underwater ethic that modifies diving practices.

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“Fishing With Scuba Gear Is Unethical” One of the early ethical manifestations of the “ecological turn” in recreational diving is the decoupling of diving from fishing. In Greece, specialized media equally covered spearfishing and scuba diving. Even though fishing with scuba gear had been banned in Greece since the early 1960s, only recently has the ethical incompatibility between scuba diving and fishing become a moral concern. This ethical dimension is largely attributed to the emerging neo-romantic relationship with the underwater nature, conceived as a blue phantasmagoria within which modern recreational divers experience pleasurable multisensory experiences. As one amateur diver articulates: It offers an alternative way to experience a profound, intimate relationship with nature. Often someone who does not know me and wants to dive will ask, ‘do you fish?’ I tell them ‘no, I don’t fish,’ and many are puzzled by this. Then they ask, ‘why do you go?’ I respond, ‘when you go hiking, do you need to hunt to enjoy yourself?’ Perhaps something of what I feel regarding nature can be expressed by what I’m telling you. You are in a natural environment that few get to see easily, and even an underwater landscape you’ve seen many times continues to be different each time. The marine life is always unpredictable and can offer you great excitement as well as disappointment. During my last dive last summer, one good thing the pandemic has done is that it has significantly reduced activity in the sea. We have all noticed, not just me, that there is much more life, many more fish that we hadn’t seen before. On the penultimate dive, we saw a huge turtle we had never seen here before. It was very big and extremely exciting. It allowed us to approach it very closely. We couldn’t believe it and kept saying, ‘no, this can’t be happening now.’

The aestheticization of underwater landscapes, teeming with vibrant marine life, and the presence of sea creatures that act as continuous reminders of the abundance of life, necessitate a new ethical relationship with the sea floor. This ethical shift also resonates inwardly, transforming ethics into an “ethic,” a more profound new experience. Over time, the ocean floor becomes compartmentalized into separate ethical universes. The one related to recreational scuba diving is incompatible with fishing, not just for ecological reasons, but also for reasons related to safety and incompatibility with an ethical underwater self.

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This delineation is buttressed by research indicating that self-­perceptions influence underwater behavior (Musa et  al., 2010). As a professional instructor from a diving center in Crete characteristically comments: We must never be selfish. We must respect the sea, far from the mirror where everyone says, ‘Okay, this is not for me, the super diver.’ We cannot fish with spearguns while using scuba gear; it is both unethical and dangerous. Finally, recreational diving offers beautiful photographic landscapes.

This statement highlights the ethical dimensions increasingly embedded in recreational scuba diving, reflecting a broad consensus that harmonizes with ecological sensibilities and expands upon safety protocols. This ethical universe is not just an externally imposed set of guidelines but is internalized, shaping the way modern recreational divers relate both to the marine environment and to themselves. However, although this practice has been restricted, it has not disappeared. In a conversation I had with a highly experienced and active scuba diver, he described to me one of his past diving adventures in which he and his fellow divers managed to catch a sizable grouper during a night dive. A practice that was once illicit but morally somewhat acceptable in Greece, grouper fishing now holds a place in diving narratives as a deviation, something we no longer do. “We were bad kids back then”, he characteristically told me. Even if someone fishes using breathing apparatus, given that it is prohibited by Greek legislation, it is not something that the fisher would easily boast about, take pictures of, and share. We are not in a position to accurately know the frequency of such a practice, although it does not appear to be that rare. It is very difficult to have reliable statistics for an illegal activity. In any case, it is a practice that is both illegal and primarily no longer morally acceptable. A female diver told me that a friend of hers got trained in diving to accompany her husband who “fished with bottles”, noting meaningfully that “normally, I shouldn’t mention this, because it’s prohibited”. If someone follows the posts and comments on global social networks where divers from around the world participate, references to fishing successes trigger a multitude of indignant responses, which can be summarized in a phrase frequently used for this purpose: “we leave only bubbles”. The moral devaluation of fishing is not limited to fish. It is connected with a broader ethic of seabed protection. According to this moral gaze, the

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ideal would be for the nomadic trace left by recreational divers on the seabed to be their bubbles. “We Leave Only Bubbles” “Take only pictures, leave only bubbles” and “Don’t touch anything” are prevailing injunctions that delineate the moral landscape of contemporary recreational diving—terms frequently employed within the industry. These phrases are integral components of the lexicon utilized by the modern diver to interpret their actions, measured against the degree of compliance they choose to adopt. As reported by a former female diver who continues to engage in the practice as an amateur, tactile engagement has become so problematized within contemporary diving culture that it perpetually poses new dilemmas for each individual diver: What may I touch? When? How frequently? She remarks: The entire Earth is our home, but down there is not our place; our place is here. So, when we leave here and go there, we enter another world that we must respect, understand, admire, and experience fully. I believe many people don’t see this. As divers, we learn not to touch anything, to leave no damage behind. We are careful with our large fins not to cause harm. Some people are excessive in this regard, and I often wonder if they act the same way on land; they do not. They leave trash behind, they tread wherever, they don’t care about what happens here, but as soon as they go underwater, they immediately say that nothing should be touched. I don’t think this is right. With caution, you can touch things; you can turn over a rock to see what life exists beneath it because there is different life there. I don’t know, there’s a lot to consider. I think seeing the turtle was wonderful; I had swum with a turtle here once. That was great, it was the first time I had seen that. Many times with octopuses… Now, they will kill me if I say this, but I like to take the octopus out of its hole if it doesn’t have eggs—I don’t touch it if it has eggs—but to hold the octopus in my hands, I like that. It’s something that’s not allowed; you’re not allowed to touch anything underwater, but the octopus is an incredible animal, and I’ve watched them many times do what they do, I’ve seen them fight each other, I’ve seen them collect things. They like to collect shiny objects; I once saw an octopus with a gold watch. I think it’s a very intelligent animal, they see far, I don’t know how much thought they have, but they’re a very beautiful animal. I’ve had many experiences… It’s simply what I said, it’s another world; the beauty we have

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here above is the same beauty that exists below, and perhaps the world needs to learn more about what’s down there.

Her statement underscores the inherent tension within diving culture: the diver is a visitor in an environment that demands respect and contemplation. Yet, what constitutes respectful interaction is a point of ethical negotiation that extends beyond the ocean to the diver’s broader ecological consciousness. If the depths represent a “magic world” deserving of respect, then people ought to abandon the ethos of conquest and navigate the azure kingdom with sensitivity. The moralization of the underwater experience, fortified by heightened ecological consciousness, places each recreational diver face-to-face with their own conscience. The principle that “one should not touch the octopuses” is not dictated by law; rather, it emerges from the “ecological turn” in recreational diving. This principle is reinforced by formal education that instills a new ethic and is perpetuated by the emerging and continually strengthening underwater ecological culture. As the narrator continues, it is crucial for the collective diving experience to generalize and sensitize: People generally need to learn to respect the sea, to understand that it even provides us with the oxygen we breathe, and to take care of it—primarily by not polluting it, just as we should not pollute the land.

The initial sportization, integration into the realm of leisure, and subsequent touristization of scuba diving are interconnected with the development of this distinct ethics rooted in respecting the underwater environment. What is especially significant is not legal regulation or prohibition, but the ethical underpinning that tends to permeate all diving practices, functioning as a normative force. This is not restricted to Greece or tourist diving destinations; it extends globally, from one end of the Earth to the other. Technology and Sensitivity In the discourse of ecological awareness, technology plays a pivotal role. The scuba diving equipment, as an integral technological extension of the diver’s technosomatic self, executes the “entanglement” (Hodder, 2012) between diving practices and environmental perceptions. Technologies

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used in scuba diving mediate the relationship between divers and the underwater environment, shaping their experiences and enabling responsible interaction with marine ecosystems. Scuba diving technology thus facilitates the management of environmental sensitivity. Diving equipment allows divers to observe and explore from a distance. The sensation of flying underwater, achieving good buoyancy, and fluid motion in three dimensions allow divers to navigate without physical contact with the seabed and its inhabitants. From basic gear like masks, snorkels, and wetsuits to more advanced buoyancy control devices (BCDs), divers are equipped to interact with the underwater world, adhering to the principle of “do not touch.” A host of other supplementary technological applications, such as underwater cameras (which are now highly accessible in terms of cost), enable divers to adhere to the other tenet of underwater regulation: “take only photos.” This axiom is metaphorical in nature as it captures the imprint of the underwater experience in the magical blue world upon the diver’s cognition and visual imagery that is recalled once back on the surface. However, it is also literal; the use of cameras to record underwater expeditions is extremely common. From this perspective, diving equipment is not merely a protective envelope or a set of tools for divers. It is but also a suite of technoscientific applications intrinsically linked to ethical considerations, which involve scrutinizing the moral responsibilities of divers toward the environment and pondering the potential ramifications of their actions. These technologies serve as mediators in the complex, interconnected relationships between humans and marine ecosystems, imbuing diving practices with both ethical and environmental dimensions.

Underwater Ecological Perspectives In recent years, there has been increasing scrutiny regarding issues centered on water, as a discrete dimension of climate change (Rasmussen & Orlove, 2014). An intensifying discourse of concern has dominated the current scientific dialogue on water and water resource management (Linton, 2010). While water remains an element of paramount importance, it has largely been commodified and privatized (Barnes, 2012; Bakker, 2003; Budds, 2013). To a certain extent, the sea has been similarly affected, long considered an inexhaustible source of resources, primarily fisheries.

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The climate crisis and the broadening of concerns about its consequences, even referring to “human vandalism,” often as a result of globalized capitalism and neoliberal dominance, are gradually extending into underwater recreational activities. New ethical imperatives are infusing recreational diving—from individual ethics to the morality that permeates the diving community, from the modification of the content of diver education to policies aiming at delimiting underwater activity and protecting marine ecosystems. Given that the climate crisis is an inherently borderline phenomenon— a hybrid of human intervention, perception, and biochemical changes on a planetary scale (Latour, 1993)—its incorporation into recreational scuba diving intensifies its ontological indeterminacy, as an activity fundamentally hybrid in nature. The perception of the relationship between the sea and human activity imbues underwater trajectories with a new consciousness based on planetary changes and a heightened sense of risk. The sea ceases to be a realm inhabited by mythical Leviathans and Krakens, transforming into a sensitive ecosystem endangered by human-made aberrations—such as waste littering the sea floor (see Photo 8.3). The underwater exploration of the ocean depths and the experience of its blue phantasmagoria are gradually tinged with concerns about the ramifications of the diving activity itself. The multisensory underwater experience feeds the semiotic magma of climate anxiety through its aqueous visuals. Eco-Dive Ethics These anxieties are integrated into the diving industry, leading to a shift in the ethical norms taught by global providers of certified education. Through specialized programs, environmental diving education and sensitization of new divers are promoted, emphasizing the value of “responsible behavior.” Such behavior includes not touching or disturbing marine life and respecting local cultural practices and regulations (Thapa et al., 2006). A professional diver working at a diving center in Crete describes how his education is tailored to convey this new, eco-sensitive ethos to novice divers:

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Photo 8.3  A scuba diver observes a car thrown into the sea. Photo by Cristos Ladas With the environment, of course, we have an obligation to protect it, and that’s how PADI educates us. That’s also the goal of PADI as an organization. It often calls on us to make contributions to protect, say, shark species that are endangered or other species that are on the verge of extinction. It strictly prohibits us from touching animals, from touching fish. Of course, you can’t touch fish, but you can touch an octopus, which, for instance, cannot move quickly, or injure a sea urchin. PADI is very sensitive about this and educates us accordingly regarding nature. For example, it tells us to clean up the seabed. That is, if we see some garbage, some plastics, some cans, beers, we should pick them up. So, the whole situation sensitizes us.

A colleague at another diving center in the same area explains how this new ecological perspective has altered the way both new and experienced divers are expected to behave in the silent blue world:

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You come into direct contact with nature. You encounter a new world, a subaquatic world, a silent underwater world, which is completely different from the terrestrial one. The colors are different, the plants are different, the animal kingdom—meaning the fish—is completely different. So it’s ­something completely different, certainly related to nature, and a significant role of ours is to maintain this, to protect this, which means that divers, whether they are trainees or experienced, are not allowed to touch anything, to disturb the underwater vegetation, the animal kingdom. It’s forbidden to take and collect something from the bottom, even if it’s buried shells, because they belong there and they do not belong in our pocket or as decoration in our wardrobe or anything like that. This is the relationship with nature.

Thus, ecological concern is assimilated by the diving community and particularly by the diving industry. The incorporation of the underwater ecological gaze into recreational diving has also resulted in its commodification, namely, the conversion into an “eco-dive” commodity. Special training programs are developed for this purpose, and some diving centers advertise their specialization in environmentally friendly practices. Ecological concern thereby becomes an element of the blue phantasmagoria, an additional lens through which recreational divers in the early twenty-first century observe the magic world of the depths and the changes that have occurred due to human intervention in it. Eco-Dive Politics As the number of tourist-divers has increased, so too have the environmental impacts on a global scale (Leverington et al., 2010). This uptick in diving as a leisure activity has been accompanied by growing acknowledgment of the imperative to safeguard marine environments and their delicate ecosystems (Parsons & Thur, 2008; Uyarra et al., 2009). Human intervention in aquatic environments has become increasingly problematized, particularly in relation to the degradation of these environments (Lockwood et al., 2010; Willow & Wylie, 2014). This is especially true concerning the ramifications of overtourism in ecologically sensitive diving destinations. Direct consequences, such as coral reef damage from diver contact, and indirect impacts from diving boats and their anchors, intensify ecological concerns (Jentoft et al., 2012; Edney, 2006).

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Similar lines of inquiry have emerged in Greece (Gerovassileiou et  al., 2009; Mylonopoulos et al., 2011). Efforts to explore sustainable diving practices, grounded in a deeper understanding of the marine taskscape and the human role within it, constitute a consistent focus in policies aimed at regulating the consumption of underwater resources (Hargreaves-Allen et  al., 2011). Consequently, public awareness is frequently tied to the development of policies that specifically target areas of diving overtourism. The endeavor to identify sustainable diving practices, based on a more profound understanding of the marine taskscape and human roles within it, has been a consistent concern in policy discussions about controlling the consumption of subaquatic resources (Hargreaves-Allen et al., 2011). As such, sensitization often correlates with the development of policies specifically focusing on areas suffering from diving overtourism. These policies aim to mitigate the impacts of human underwater hyperactivity (Halik et al., 2018). One form of such policies particularly aims at delimiting ecologically sensitive zones and regulating human underwater activities therein, such as the creation of marine parks (Christie, 2004; Dharmaratne et al., 2000; Dimech et al., 2009; Dixon et al., 1993). In line with these policies, the diving industry has seen the emergence of eco-dive tourism, also known as sustainable dive tourism. This is a rapidly expanding sector of the tourism industry that harmonizes recreational diving with environmental conservation and sustainability (Jones et  al., 2013). Eco-dive tourism seeks to establish a balance between the enjoyment of the natural splendor of the underwater realm and minimizing the impact on what are considered to be sensitive marine ecosystems (Gill et al., 2015). One of the central tenets of eco-dive tourism is its emphasis on conservation-­oriented management, aimed at protecting and preserving marine ecosystems and their biodiversity (Dimech et  al., 2009). Such management includes the establishment of marine protected areas, dive site zoning, and responsible waste disposal to mitigate pollution and habitat degradation (Pieraccini & Cardwell, 2017). Another guiding principle involves the promotion of environmental education and awareness among divers. This entails highlighting responsible behaviors such as avoiding physical contact with marine life and complying with local cultural practices and regulations. Such a policy translates, as previously discussed, into an underwater regulatory framework and an ethos of non-contact with both the diver’s body and aquatic life.

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Eco-dive tourism also encourages cultural exchange and understanding. Divers are prompted to interact with local communities, learning about their customs and traditional practices in sustaining local marine ecosystems (Ferse et al., 2010). This often aims for broader inclusion in policy design, taking into account local factors and the beliefs of the general population (Helvey, 2004; Mangi & Austen, 2008). Local marine activities, such as sustainable fishing, are also considered (Jones, 2008; Pita et al., 2011; Roberts & Polunin, 1993). A primary challenge lies in the need for effective collaboration among stakeholders, including dive flow managers within local marine environments, based on sustainable management plans (Humphreys & Herbert, 2018). In this context, the seabed is not an inexhaustible resource for the diving industry; it too has a “carrying capacity” (Potts et al., 2016). The issue of carrying capacity includes seafloor restoration interventions for the benefit of the diving tourism industry, such as the creation of artificial reefs (Davis & Tisdell, 1995; Stolk et al., 2005, 2007). Although the integration of scuba diving into the tourism sector undoubtedly contributes to the degradation of ecological systems—owing to divers from around the world visiting limited areas—strong environmental concerns have emerged. These concerns often transform into a technical discourse on environmental risk management and respect for the carrying capacity of popular diving destinations. This environmental awareness is not confined to experts, policymakers, or globalized diving flow managers. It extends to the diverse mass of amateur scuba divers, who witness firsthand the consequences of human overactivity. Through underwater exploration, a fleeting journey to the boundaries of civilization, crossing the threshold from visitable nature to the unexplored abyss, a broader psychosocial ache often arises. Nostalgia, sorrow, and heightened sensitivity combine to form the aquastalgia of our times.

Aquastalgia The discourse on climate change situates the issues concerning the relationship between humans and the aquatic environment within a broader and more fundamental environmental agenda. Recreational diving necessarily fits within this wider framework of concern, while concurrently developing unique forms of sensitivity toward the consequences of human intervention in marine ecosystems.

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This gradually emerging ecological sensitivity partly modifies the gaze with which recreational divers view the sea floor and evaluate what they are doing. The result is the emergence of a new stance toward the “magic world” of the deep, which partly alters both the emotions that recreational divers experience when navigating the blue phantasmagoria and also the manner in which they feel they should discuss the consequences of human hyperactivity that they observe when diving. As we have already mentioned in the introduction, we term this new condition—within which both the underwater sensory regime and the related emotional economy are partly altered—as “aquastalgia.” Aquastalgia is a peculiar iteration of “solastalgia,” a term introduced into international discussion by Australian philosopher Glenn Albrecht (2005, 2010). Solastalgia refers to a form of distress or existential unease caused by the loss or degradation of one’s familiar environment. Aquastalgia pertains specifically to a sensory as well as emotional state that concerns the liquid element—water, the source of life itself. As a condition of concern regarding the watery condition of life, though more targeted, it is more fundamental. The anxiety stemming from this is clearer, mobilizing thought to seek causes and solutions. It provokes sadness, but also anger. In the context of environmental crisis, aquastalgia may arise when divers witness firsthand the changes and damage inflicted upon the underwater world that they once knew and loved. The diver’s gaze in this context may be tinged with sadness, grief, and a sense of loss as they witness the deterioration of the environment that they have a deep emotional connection with. This emergence of a sensory and emotional condition of anxiety within the underwater blue phantasmagoria of recreational diving alters the diver’s gaze. Such environmental crises serve to highlight the paradoxical and complex emotions that arise when engaging with the natural world in times of ecological upheaval. The diver’s gaze may oscillate between awe and despair, beauty and devastation, wonder and sorrow, as they confront the dual nature of the changing environment. Another professional diver at a diving center in Crete comments on such an evaluation of the consequences observed while working in Greece’s emerging tourism industry: When we started here, the seabed was clean, verdant, teeming with different kinds of life. Now it has changed, let’s say, by 200%. The fish are gone, the

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seabed has lost the richness it once had, and knowing what it used to be and what it has become makes you think twice.

Pollution also appears to threaten the burgeoning recreational diving industry, especially if it fails to incorporate an ecological perspective for commercial purposes. Not only is the underwater ecosystem being destroyed, but the commodity—that is, the seabed itself—is also being degraded. This unsettling prospect worries professionals who make their living through underwater guided tours. A professional diver working at a diving center in Crete describes the purpose of recreational diving, dominated by the enjoyment of observing and photographing marine life from a distance: All those who come and engage in recreational diving descend underwater to observe aquatic life and to take photographs. They are attracted by both the fish and the minutest things they see under the water, as well as the entire morphology of the seabed.

However, pollution, as pointed out by one of his colleagues who works at another diving center, destroys this very product. Look, there are two things: if you have a beautiful dive with abundant wealth, meaning plenty of fish, and the visibility is great, then you really enjoy it and you say, ‘this is why I do this job.’ But, let’s say, you go on a dive to a spot and there’s hardly any fish, you see pollution everywhere, and the changes in the seabed, then your feelings are mixed. What will you show if this continues?

Continuing on, another colleague refers to the fact that divers, especially professionals, are witnesses to the underwater ecological crisis. The unpleasant emotional state that arises as a result of witnessing this ecological crisis leads, on one hand, to concern for the professional future of recreational diving and, on the other hand, to personal dissatisfaction: Firstly, we see the deplorable state that exists at the seabed. Pollution that originates from humans ends up in the sea— all these plastics, all these remnants from fishermen, the nets. All these residues are there. We go and collect them on each dive as much as possible to avoid showing this miserable scene to our clients. But we cannot avoid it. For instance, going from south to north, the situation is appalling; it’s all full of bags, plastics, and debris

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floating in the water, unfortunately, because they are free to drift. It’s far away from the seabed you dive into, but you still see them, and it makes you a little melancholic.

This unpleasant psychological state appears to touch, in one way or another, all divers, both amateur and professional. Melancholy seems to be an emotion that broadens as the possibilities of realizing the damage to marine ecosystems become apparent. A woman who is a regular diver and a former professional, speaks of these consequences, experiencing, according to her words, similar feelings: Depending on where someone dives, they can even become saddened by seeing the environmental pollution, seeing the waste on the seabed, which is human negligence. Lately, I personally have been saddened because the sea urchins have disappeared from the sea. They have disappeared from all of Greece due to a bacterium; they died and no longer exist. Not a single sea urchin is alive on the seabed. This bacterium could have originated from environmental pollution.

Melancholy and unresolved emotional pain are not feelings that typically mobilize people to act, to more dynamically demand the modification of the conditions that function as causes of their discomfort (Demertzis, 2013, 2020). Aquastalgia, as an inherently hybrid emotional state, can fuel contrasting social processes, mobilize or lead to disappointment. Notables are the following words of a professional diver, who makes a comprehensive assessment of the situation, the risks, and the possible prospects: A diver who discovers these understands the crimes we commit against nature. He becomes a supporter. I’ll give you just a simple example, and he becomes even fanatical. Because it is not possible for 80 million sharks to be killed per year just because some people want to make their fins into soup. This must stop. It is not possible for so many organisms to die. We talk about plastics, we talk about the plastic bag, and we’re right to talk about plastic. Have you ever thought about how many tons of sunscreen fall into the sea, or what we wash at home, the dishes and the washing machine, how many tons of such liquids fall into the sea? But we don’t see these, however, we do see the bag. And I still say that we are fooling ourselves because we say that one plastic bag costs 20 or 40 cents. The use of plastic bags should be completely banned and replaced with paper, there is no middle ground.

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These stupid things we’re saying now, if you go to the supermarket and go to the fruits they will give you a very thin bag, which is not charged, and it’s three times worse. Because this very thin plastic bag is seen by turtles and they think it is a jellyfish, they swallow it and get suffocated. Every now and then we see drowned dolphins, drowned turtles, etc. It’s a terrible situation. We want our divers to come and learn diving, to be the advertisers and protectors of this fantastic environment.

Whether the emotional state arising from aquastalgia can fuel a more proactive action is a question that cannot be answered in this book. What seems evident, however, is that the crisis of marine ecosystems affects divers, redirecting their gaze. From this redirection emerges an emotional disposition that objectively fuels the semiotic magma of anxieties about the world of the abyss and beyond. The consequences of the alteration of the seabed affect both professional and amateur divers. As imposing underwater masses captivate, the alien external space becomes internalized. It nourishes, recycles, and possibly back-feeds the magma of ecological concerns through attempts to detect the latent responses of underwater materiality to social activity. In this mental and sensory activity, we find a process of restoration, even at a mythical level, of the totality of the planetary ecosystem that social activity, in its capitalist form, apparently disorganizes. The debris on the sea floor, the lack of fish, and the bleaching of corals act as individual signs for the total signifier of the ecological crisis. Mediterranean Aquastalgia? The Mediterranean has long fueled the imagination of tourism (see Club Med). It served as a destination for relaxation and rejuvenative holidays, initially for the elite and later for the broader European societies. Particularly during the twentieth century, tourism flows replaced colonial control (Nouschi, 1999). The Mediterranean is a naturally delimited sea, almost a salty lake, a place of performance for the most contemporary forms of the European middle classes’ self (Ehremberg, 1991). The Mediterranean, as a vast liquid basin, is both a bridge and a border simultaneously. Thousands of migrants have drowned in its depths, seeking fluid paths to the affluent countries of northern Europe (Hamilakis, 2018). Thousands of vacationers and tourists enjoy its liquid coolness during the summer months.

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A region that has supplied the now-globalized Western culture with foundational ideas for social organization seems to be transforming yet again into an indicator of the direction of the times. The Mediterranean, a sea cradle of Western civilization, has also been identified as a hot spot for climate change (Tuel & Eltahir, 2020). The intensifying drought, one of the main features of climate change, appears to be particularly severe in the Mediterranean basin and the coastal areas it irrigates, Southern Europe and Northern Africa (Hoerling et al., 2012; Seager et al., 2019). In such a situation, the management of water resources constitutes a fundamental dimension of politics (Benjaminsen & Bryceson, 2012). The intensifying drought and, along with it, the specificities of bounded waters as global hotspots for flows of people and ideas also affect its seabed. Tourist flows, a portion of which are diving tourists, follow paths carved out before them, a result of the spatial, social, and state fragmentation of the Mediterranean into separate maritime cultures—a palimpsest of a deeply differentiated unity (Apostolopoulos et al., 2001). The Mediterranean seabed, too, seemingly becomes a hotspot for the changing conditions of the seabed, a frame of reference for a specific emotional condition, a “Mediterranean Aquastalgia.” Changes in the marine ecosystems of the Mediterranean seabed are reflected as a unique underwater condition in the experiences of divers visiting them. In an extensive narration, one of our interlocutors, a diving instructor, states: We have now started to see both marine pollution and its impact very intensely. The decrease in marine population; the truth is that the main complaint we get from our clients is that there is no marine life left in the Mediterranean. And this is true, whether it is due to overfishing, which is the main and primary reason, or pollution. Now the species of fish we see are much fewer. There are new species, the "infinity species" as we call them, fish species that have been introduced through the Suez Canal due to the rise in water temperatures and are invasive, posing a danger to our own ecosystem, the marine ecosystem of the Mediterranean. Examples are lionfish and rabbitfish, as well as some types of algae in winter—species that have come from elsewhere and do not belong here and pose a danger to our marine system and, by extension, not only the marine system. Some studies say that our seas will soon be very inhospitable if we don’t take some measures, either to reduce the temperature or to stop the influx of these foreign species. A very characteristic example that I can tell you to understand how, for example, even the smallest things matter—some fishermen as soon as they saw the lionfish, threw them out onto the rocks because they thought

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this was the right way to reject them, to discard them. The result was that dead cats began to be found, who had eaten the lionfish. People have now begun to get informed and educated and are trained in the correct way to handle and manage these species. Various organizations like PADI are now offering some courses.

Certainly, the transformation of aquatic landscapes compels individuals to contemplate the future of a given location, thereby generating visions and scenarios that influence contemporary human engagement with both water and space more broadly (Hastrup, 2013a, 2013b). This problematization is simultaneously local and global, empirical—rooted in the specific sites and seabed—and inferential, seeking to understand the causes of the changes (Rich, 2007). A Globalized Indigenous Underwater Ontology? Water scarcity, often characterized as a salient manifestation of climate change, frequently captures public imagination through photography and fuels collective fantasies. Disaster films increasingly incorporate themes of drought or water-related calamities (e.g., colossal tsunamis). Nomadic communities or civilizations historically moved in pursuit of water flows or maritime resources such as fishing. The nomadic subjectivity of late capitalist neoliberalism is fueled by anxieties of lack (drought), expansion (rising sea levels), or pollution of aquatic environments, largely due to the intensification of global climate change. This condition, referred to as aquastalgia, feeds into a broader condition of awareness. However, it is also encapsulated in specific realms such as the ocean floor. In this latter context, given the globalization of recreational scuba diving, aquastalgia shapes the community of enthusiasts’ perceptions about the status of the depths—what it actually signifies for the global ecosystem. Analogically speaking, this represents an indigenous ontology, rooted in a globalized community of individuals who systematically visit the ocean floors, spending a portion of their time beneath the sea surface. Indigenous, in this case, refers to non-specialist scientists’ ways of viewing the underwater world, as part of a culture that characterizes a globalized community operating more as a network than as a group. The underwater environment, with its unparalleled and enthralling characteristics, represents a mesmerizing and otherworldly tableau for divers. This blue phantasmagoria, replete with vibrant marine life, complex

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coral structures, and enigmatic shipwrecks, engenders a sense of wonder, awe, and fascination. The interplay of light, shadow, and colors, in conjunction with the sensation of weightlessness, intensifies the dreamlike quality of the underwater experience. The multisensory experience of underwater scenery, with their elusive and ever-changing nature, can evoke a sense of enchantment, transporting divers to an entirely different realm. However, in the context of environmental crises, such phantasmagoria can also underscore the precariousness and fragility of the natural world. Humans confront the tangible repercussions of environmental degradation, climate change, and species loss face-­ to-­ face. The diver’s gaze in this phantasmagoric environment is thus dualistic—mesmerized by the existing beauty and diversity, yet haunted by the realization of impending ecological threats. This duality serves to radically transform the distinctive aquatic ontology: water as an integral part of the body itself, as a precondition for life, and as the most revealing element concerning the direction we are headed as a species. The gradually deteriorating marine waters, the dark, cold, and increasingly waste-laden abysses of the oceans, the melting polar ice, the bleaching and dying coral reefs, and the migratory fish finding anthropogenic corridors into the Mediterranean—these are individual elements of an emerging risky underwater ontology. In the aquatic realms of the ocean depths, indigenous inhabitants become, under these conditions, the quintessential symbols of an era of crisis. As a result, they are imbued with meanings that transcend mere policy articulations concerning their protection. These marine creatures become symbols through which contemporary humans contemplate their relationships with other social beings, as well as their prospects for survival as a biological entity among others. In the age of aquastalgia, aquatic life transforms into a measure for evaluating culture. The creatures of the deep become the new “noble savages,” gauges of the degree of alienation in modern life. These organisms serve not merely as biological indicators of environmental health but also as existential markers. They prompt critical inquiry into human social relations and ethical considerations, revealing the interspecies dynamics that are at stake. Thus, in an era characterized by environmental degradation and social dislocation, the marine inhabitants serve as poignant emblems. They are not merely passive elements within their ecosystems but act as focal points around which human understanding, ethics, and policies must orient. They become the means through which humans navigate their

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social and biological realities, fostering a reconceptualization of their roles both as members of their own species and as part of a broader ecological community. In this light, the marine creatures, from coral reefs to migratory fish, become significant cultural artifacts. They turn into repositories of meaning that inform, critique, and challenge contemporary perspectives on social cohesion and biological survival. As such, they are instrumental in evaluating the degree of estrangement or integration humans feel in the context of their natural environments, thus providing a nuanced view of the implications and responsibilities that come with cohabitation on this planet.

Underwater Noble Savages and the Human Being In the epoch of the Anthropocene (Ellis, 2018) and the climate emergency, the sea continually re-enters collective imagination as the most significant mirror reflecting the fragility of Earth as a unified ecosystem. Disaster films increasingly focus on droughts, paralleling narratives concerning the forced migration of humanity to other planets, which also depict drought, the depletion of Earth’s water reserves, and the newfound awareness of water’s value in the inhospitable cosmos. The sea, formerly divided by human territorial demarcations to fit within various social and economic plans, reclaims its unity as an integral component of a natural continuum. This reclamation emerges amid growing concern over the range of human interventions in natural environments and the survival prospects of numerous nonhuman living entities, many of which inhabit the sea. An ecological concern that forces us to contemplate limits, the transgressions that human history has committed, consequences for which we are increasingly apprehensive, and the necessity of “imagining other stories” (Hamilakis, 2022). Such contemplation challenges established anthropocentric norms, directing attention to the interconnectedness of human and nonhuman realms. This notion elevates the importance of recognizing nonhuman agency in the context of global ecological and social issues. Therefore, the narrative surrounding the sea and its role as a mirror reflecting Earth’s fragility gains heightened relevance, emphasizing the need for alternative stories and ecological imaginaries that can steer humans toward more sustainable futures.

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A professional diver summarizes how the experience of diving leads to a form of realization of the unity and continuity of “nature”: Certainly, one feels that they become one with nature. One comes close to nature, feels that they are essentially the smallest, that you are the smallest link in nature. When you see its grandeur, you understand how boundless nature is, what it grants us, and how everything is interconnected.

Through the aforementioned ethical problematizations, which are sometimes translated into aesthetic representations for the oceans and the seabed (see Photo 8.4), the natural environment and aquatic life are linked to a necessity for commitment, which in turn corresponds to a certain “sensitized behavior.” Aquatic life refers to the diverse array of plants and animals that live in water, including freshwater and marine environments such as rivers, lakes, oceans, seas, and other bodies of water. Aquatic life can include a wide range of species, from microscopic organisms such as plankton and algae,

Photo 8.4  Cuttlefish swimming in a Greek seabed. Photo by Cristos Ladas

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to larger organisms such as fish, mammals like whales and dolphins, reptiles like sea turtles, crustaceans like crabs and lobsters, mollusks like clams and octopuses, and many other types of organisms. It appears that there are some analogies in the way aquatic life is perceived and the romantic primitivism that is encapsulated in the constantly evolving, Western-centric idea of the noble savage, dating back to the sixteenth century. Aquatic life holds significant cultural, recreational, and economic value, as it supports fishing and aquaculture industries; provides opportunities for recreational activities such as boating and diving; and holds cultural and spiritual value for many communities around the world. For this reason, the very policies aimed at its preservation, as well as the rationales that support them, are intensely ideologically charged (Robbins, 2012). In a sense, this represents a potential reiteration of the romanticization of the nineteenth century, a problematization that might be recorded as yet another colonial story (Demos, 2020), taking the form of another Western fantasy—a sort of marine orientalism (Said, 1978) that alienates through idealism. The term “noble savage” is a concept that has been used in literature, philosophy, and anthropology to describe an idealized or romanticized portrayal of the “indigenous” or “primitive” people as being inherently noble, virtuous, and untainted by the corrupting influences of civilization. The idea of the noble savage suggests that these individuals or societies, living in a state of nature, are unspoiled by the vices and flaws associated with modern civilization and possess a natural purity and wisdom. The concept of the noble savage has been depicted in various ways throughout history, with different interpretations and perspectives. In some portrayals, the noble savage is seen as living in harmony with nature, possessing a deep understanding of the natural world, and embodying a sense of innocence and simplicity. In other interpretations, the noble savage is portrayed as “primitive” or “uncivilized,” yet still noble and virtuous in their own way, contrasting with the perceived moral decay of civilized societies (Ellingson, 2001). There are noticeable parallels between the concept of the “noble savage” and modern discourses concerning environmental crises, especially in the context of wildlife conservation. Both narratives often contain a propensity to romanticize or idealize nature, perceiving the wilderness or wildlife as inherently unspoiled, pure, or uncontaminated by human activities. This standpoint implies that natural environments possess intrinsic nobility or virtue, superior to landscapes modified by human intervention,

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and posits human civilization as the primary source of environmental degradation. Contemporary discourses on environmental crises generally advocate nuanced and evidence-based approaches to conservation, taking into account the intricate interactions between human societies and the natural world (Adams, 2004). This involves recognizing the dual impact of human activities—they can both undermine and contribute to the conservation of wildlife and natural habitats. Moreover, it is critical to acknowledge the role of underlying social, economic, and political factors in contributing to environmental degradation (Tsing, 2015). Policies aimed at protecting underwater ecosystems in specific regions may have dramatic consequences for local populations, such as fishermen, who are at risk of becoming conservation refugees (Agrawal & Redford, 2009; Dowie, 2009). Hence, we observe a resurgence of moral attributes akin to the fantasies of the “noble savage” through an ecologically sensitive perspective of the underwater environment. Such attributes include living harmoniously with nature, the innocence and authenticity of coexisting with other species, and physical health that emanates from the “innate intelligence and wisdom” of nature that capitalism tends to degrade, jeopardizing global balances. Two levels of concern can be distinguished: (a) the transformation of the seabed into a site for commodifiable experiences, exploited by the diving tourism and broader diving industry, and (b) sensitization toward human interventions in underwater ecosystems. The first level can be analyzed through the lens of capitalist expansionist policies. The integration of environmental concerns by the diving industry as “eco-dives” serves as an indicative trend. The second level is more ambiguous and internally contradictory. It largely guides the ecological concerns of scuba divers worldwide and, despite its diversity, seems to gravitate toward a view that perceives aquatic life as the threatened Other of society and a critical reflection of the consequences of human hyperactivity. These ecological sensitivities are common within diving communities, shaping behaviors even when they do not culminate in a practice aligned with emerging ethics of non-intervention. They influence how underwater behaviors are evaluated within the public space of diving—through forums for the exchange of opinions and sharing of underwater experiences, specialized publications, etc.

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On a theoretical level, this ethical sensitivity appears capable of unifying two mutually nourishing cutting-edge streams of thought: post-humanist and post-colonial approaches to globalization (Braidotti, 2013, 2019; Spivak, 1999). If the project of moving beyond a Western-centric reading of history and various manifestations of Orientalism (Said, 1978) presupposes an ontological shift in the understanding of life beyond the human realm—toward machines, artificially constructed biological entities, natural forces, as well as other living beings—the ethical problematization of humans’ relationship with the underwater environment today represents the field par excellence for both the prospects and paradoxes illuminated by these critiques. The experience of scuba diving, both in recreational and other related contexts, aligns with an almost theoretical crafting of a consciousness that transcends purely human boundaries. Emerging from these brief immersions into what might be described as a blue phantasmagoria is a theory deeply rooted in personal experience. This theory expands to a planetary level, in accordance with global flows (Appadurai, 1996), and leans toward a non-anthropocentric narrative of life. On the one hand, the underwater experience can be characterized as a quintessential techno-experience; on the other, these dives are understood by the participants not just as explorations, but also as “violations,” raising significant ethical questions. However, this conjugation, to the extent that it morphs into thought that influences underwater behavior, paradoxically aligns with a concept that belongs to the past rather than the future—the idea of the noble savage. This everyday theory, resulting from contact with an “other world,” the fluid realm of ocean and seabed, responds to a persistent element in social theory about “the other,” the exoticization. The perception of the Other, essentially viewed as noble and uncorrupted to the extent it has not been influenced by human civilization, carries all the weaknesses inherent in drawing a dichotomy between an “indigenous” object existing “out there” and a Western-centric gaze that recognizes it as such, framing it as something “authentic” and at risk. This kind of conceptualization has never served as a reliable guide for critical thinking. However, the case of recreational scuba diving can serve as an effective diagnostic tool for the theoretical perspectives offered by the fusion of post-humanistic (Braidotti, 2019; Hayles, 1999) and post-colonial approaches, especially in the field of tourism (Hall & Tucker, 2004). The theoretical contemplation on and about the boundaries of the biological-­ natural and the technological-cultural arises as a consequence of the hybrid

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experience of divers’ technobodies entailed in the act of diving. Jue (2020) aims to highlight the richness of this experience by proposing diving as a method for understanding the multidimensional relationship between contemporary society and the ocean. The paradoxes of this union— between the globalized practice of scuba diving and the ethical problematizations it entails for the human-nature relationship through the use of advanced technology—pose a challenge for a deep reflexive function of critical thinking itself. The concept of “aquatic life” as a contemporary myth of the noble savage may serve as a looking glass (Herzfeld, 1988) for the Western gaze on the relationship between humans and “threatened nature.” Thus, diving can be seen both as a method for a deeper understanding of the multiplication of hybrid experiences in modern life and as an exemplary form of how everyday experiences, no matter how commodified or ideologically charged, feed into a critical semiotic reservoir that might guide action in the immediate or distant future. The fish, turtles, dolphins, and sharks observed by divers, who relish their very presence “down there,” swim in the fluid body of the sea but at the same time traverse the semiotic human universe, constantly changing forms. Underwater diving has captivated millions of people around the world, offering them an opportunity to invade one of the planet’s least explored worlds. However, behind the magic of diving lies a web of doubts, hypocrisies, and ethical dilemmas with which contemporary divers eventually grapple, especially in those moments when they realize that diving, in addition to being a flânerie in the blue phantasmagoria, is also an ontological journey on the boundaries.

CHAPTER 9

Conclusion: Diving as Travel on the Boundaries

As you set out for Ithaka hope your road is a long one, full of adventure, full of discovery. Laistrygonians, Cyclops, angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them: you’ll never find things like that on your way as long as you keep your thoughts raised high, as long as a rare excitement stirs your spirit and your body. Laistrygonians, Cyclops, wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them unless you bring them along inside your soul, unless your soul sets them up in front of you. […] C.P. Cavafy, Ithaka, in Collected Poems. Translated by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard, Princeton University Press 1992, p. 36.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Tzanakis, Scuba Diving Practices in Greece, Leisure Studies in a Global Era, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-48839-9_9

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In this concluding chapter, the pivotal importance of the dimension of mobility, of movement itself, for understanding contemporary recreational diving is emphasized. Immersion in the historically shaped blue phantasmagoria constitutes a pleasurable ontological journey—a set of transitions across different terrains of reality, a sequence of threshold crossings. This paradoxical “travel experience” is the outcome of multilayered social processes, ranging from the use of advanced technoscientific applications to the collective representations that have historically shaped the seabed as not only an appealing leisure space but also as an ecologically sensitive environment. The journey within the blue phantasmagoria relies on diving equipment as well as on a technology of self, fully compatible with contemporary processes shaping the nomadic subjectivity of the modern reflective individual. This constitutes a condition for forming a subjectivity receptive to the experience of travel, of movement, and of the continuous search for points of reference in the deeply differentiated social environment of late capitalist modernity.

Immersions Scuba diving has been a highly globalized activity since its inception in the late 1950s. Its deterritorialization has been so pronounced, its linkage with local diving cultures worldwide so limited, and its commodification so potent from the outset, that, after seventy years, the diving gaze has acquired a uniform structure across the globe. However, this should not suggest that there are no variances in how recreational divers perceive the underwater world and interpret their actions. After all, differentiation is a key feature of the dominant condition, as is the case with maritime activities aimed at the pleasurable exploration of the ocean floor. Human experiences are always diversified, and emotional nuances have multiple shades. Individuals do not always follow the paths established by earlier generations; they often wander into detours or create new pathways when multiple diverging individual routes align. Innovative, invented micro-routes constantly emerge, often as deviations from the prevailing dominant condition, which, as a genetic structure, shapes the very prerequisites of both conformity and deviation. In the context of recreational scuba diving, the underwater sensorium and its corresponding emotional economy, despite their undisputed localized variations and dynamics, have evolved into a tourist experience in recent years. I have attempted to decode a largely globalized

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underwater sensorium by connecting it with modern practices of the self (Foucault, 1984b). This translation adheres to the phenomenological characteristics of diving practices in Greece, which I have endeavored to trace in previous chapters. The very act of scuba diving constitutes a perforation of both a natural and symbolic boundary, marking the passage over a threshold, the sea’s surface. Upon crossing this boundary, the diver enters a sensory regime, as their feelings align with the norms of an underwater emotional economy, shaped within the recreational realm as a framework for hedonistic exploration. This underwater condition has historically been molded by globalized flows (Appadurai, 1990, 1996) that have defined the essential characteristics of diving as recreation. Therefore, for example, the experience of underwater breathing as a technoexperience with potentially existential implications serves as a semantically significant acoustic experience, journeying across the borders of culture and nature, human biology, and technology. Its roots lie in the environment of reflective exploration of the “other” within everyday life while simultaneously being in the “here” of deeply individualized societies (Tzanakis, 2023). The immersion of the “self-traveler” into oneself is the outcome of utilizing scuba diving for leisure consumption and the pursuit of well-­ being, where the activity of exploration and joy is the main purpose. At that spatiotemporal confluence of flows, there is no other aim than movement, submersion, and the accompanying multisensory experiences, which constitute the purpose of diving (Merchant, 2011a, 2011b). Recreational scuba diving is enjoyable because it serves a legitimized social purpose, namely brief, calculated, commodified, and rationally designed exploration at the boundaries, and an ideological imperative, the discovery of the inner self through experimentation (Beck, 1992). In the immersion into the “self-traveler” through the use of scuba diving in leisure consumption and in the search for well-being, the activity and its enjoyment are the main goals. In recreational scuba diving, there is no literally strategic purpose other than movement and immersion, as well as the subsequent multisensory experiences (Merchant, 2011b; Tzanakis, 2015). The aim is the practice of diving itself, and not something that it should serve, as is the case, for example, in scientific diving. In this context, the sound of underwater breathing resonates with these social objectives. The vibrations of exhalation and rising bubbles function as a paradoxical cultural sonar in the underwater technoexperience,

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orienting exploration. The majority of modern divers are, in essence, contemporary little Odysseuses—wandering daily beings seeking the essence of existence (Joyce, 1960) through the temporary escape afforded by organized leisure. This is a condition of transition into the magical world of the seabed, as well as into one’s inner self, which must constantly evolve. The depth of the dive is reflected in the quest for a deeper self (Tzanakis., 2022). This is indicative mainly of the middle strata of late capitalist modernity’s culture. However, this largely commodified practice has its peculiarities, the reason this book was written. The immersion into the self, continually reinforced by the sound of underwater breathing, is accompanied by the liminal experience of the diver’s technobody. This is not just movement in three dimensions but even more so a movement between fundamental dimensions that make up the ancestral social world—starting points of the underwater journey and overall terrestrial reality. The experience of taming technoscientific applications through the use of complex and sophisticated diving equipment for recreational purposes appears to be an affirmation of late modernity’s technoculture, a consensus that nevertheless increasingly encounters issues related to human behavior in this specific historical context, emerging ecological concerns, and awareness of the consequences of human activity on underwater ecosystems. Waste on the ocean floor is matter out of place (Douglas, 1966), as is the diver who sees it, realizing, even for a few moments, their contribution to the condition of “pollution.” The sought-after purity is the result of a historical dialectic of clean-dirty, where one pole determines the ontological status of the other (Vigarello, 1987). Scuba diving is a journey par excellence into diverse ontological realms. At every stage, from preparation to the moment of return to the sea surface, the diver experiences assemblages of heterogeneous entities. The diver, being a complex material out of place, continuously experiences hybrid encounters while diving. These encounters intertwine the human and the nonhuman: nitrogen narcosis, risk of decompression sickness, the very underwater experience of breathing through a regulator, and the presence in an environment conceived as alien, as well as observing climate changes manifesting at the seabed due to human activities that took place far away, possibly long ago. The fluidity of the underwater world, the aquatic stratifications that function as continually violated boundaries of exploration, from the colorful seabed full of fish and seaweed to the dark ravines, the constant sound of breathing and bubbles reminding one of the temporality of submersion,

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Photo 9.1  Diver observes floating remnant of a fishing net on a rock. Photo by Cristos Ladas

forge an experience of travel at the intersection of the natural and the cultural, and the technical and the biological (see Photo 9.1). When the diver hovers in the water, they are in the midst of these ontologically ambiguous layers of reality. Occasionally, they reflect upon the amalgamations and their consequences.

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Surplus of Underwater Experience Scuba diving has often been conceptualized as a cyborg activity where the human body integrates with technological devices to explore an otherwise inaccessible underwater world (Haraway, 1991). The coordination of a reflective relationship with oneself and the use of advanced technology for recreational purposes is not solely unique to scuba diving. A variety of sports presuppose such usage of technology, leading us to posit that there are affinities between the technobody of the scuba diver and those of the alpinist, the rock climber, the enduro motorcyclist, among others. However, scuba diving transcends this characterization. The underwater techno-experience in this activity achieves an extraordinarily potent fusion of biological functions and technology, such as underwater respiration. From this union emerges a unique underwater sensory regime and the emotional economy that accompanies it. The underwater embodied techno-experience, with existential implications, serves as a significant experience of a journey on the boundaries of culture and nature, human biology, and technology. It may be rooted in the realm of recreation but constantly eludes it. The condition of the ontological journey has continually shifted the gaze of scuba divers for nearly seven decades, as various sensory flows activate emotions, thoughts, concerns, and bodily expressions. Diving as an achievement, as a sport, as entertainment, and as a tourist practice represents sequential shifts in how the underwater experience is delimited. As we have observed, ecological concerns have been increasingly magnified in recent years, becoming more integrated into the diving industry as yet another specialized product: the eco-dive. However, integration also has its limits. Increasingly, the ecological perspective is associated with existential distress concerning the state of the oceans, water, and the broader environment. This is because the pleasure of blue phantasmagoria is tinged with aquastalgia. The performance of the underwater technobody, a temporarily wandering cyborg occurring in the social environment of late capitalist modernity with rising ecological crisis awareness, is reorganized to incorporate new social concerns. Frequently, the very entanglement of humans and things (Hodder, 2012) changes perceptions of what is human but simultaneously pushes for new semantic innovations to answer the new questions posed by these historical assemblages (Hodder, 2018). Today, it seems we are at yet

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another crossroads, facing the unprecedented ecological challenges of the twenty-first century underwater. Scuba diving as a recreational activity was initially one of the active social laboratories of political introspection, both in relation to the self and to one’s relationship with the environment (Dimmock & Wilson, 2011). However, environmental change and climate change intensify this parameter, which, although not primary, is becoming very familiar to people embarking on temporary underwater journeys. It is no longer just about the need to preserve purely diving-related natural resources, such as a coral reef, or to control and manage the frequency of underwater activities in “sensitive” environments. Frequently, the concerns extend to political issues that determine the behavior of divers and the corresponding diving experiences in different parts of the world, even in fully touristized diving destinations. Scuba diving has often been described as a magical and transcendent experience. The moment a diver finds themselves below the surface of the sea, they encounter a world fundamentally different from the terrestrial (Kler & Tribe, 2012). It is an environment that, despite its external beauty, can be foreign and unpredictable. With the introduction of technological tools, humans have managed to “invade” this unfamiliar environment, yet always remaining a stranger within it (Chowdhury, 2000). This experience of scuba diving reflects contemporary human relations with the environment and technology. In an era where technological advances and scientific discoveries are changing the boundaries of human experience, diving emerges as a model for understanding the complex relationships that humans develop with their surrounding world. The diver, equipped with technology, becomes a hybrid of human and machine, while remaining entirely dependent on nature for their survival. This feeds into post-human considerations, as scuba diving offers new perspectives in understanding human relationships with the world. Although humans seek technological superiority, the utilization of the latest technology often acts as a factor for realizing that they remain absolutely integrated into the natural world. The condition of the ontological traveler compels divers to re-examine their anthropocentric representations, often recognizing the interconnectedness of all forms of life, both human and aquatic. By problematizing the binary view of absolute separation between humans and animals, as well as the distinction between technology and culture from nature, anti-­ essentialist views are adopted that enhance the fluidity of identities, akin to

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the nomadic ethics proposed by Braidotti (2006). Thus, the human body, intertwined with diving equipment, becomes a site for ethical exploration, including the ethics of interaction with aquatic life. In this context, in-situ underwater post-human problematization is not simply about transcending humanity but also about understanding the human as an interactive and intermediary entity, continuously in dialogue with its natural and technological environment. The hybridity par excellence of the diver’s technobody lies at the heart of the contemporary global organization of flows (Appadurai, 1990, 1996), mobilizing recreational divers to seek pleasurable underwater exploration. Sensory flows (Hamilakis, 2013) that shape the dynamic underwater sensorium occur particularly within the globalized field of recreation, activating the ethos of nomadic individuality, which tends toward self-realization, in our case, up to the limits of ontological experience. This condition presupposes a dynamically articulated and constantly evolving dispositive (Foucault, 1994), functioning as a system of ideas, practices, and embodied experiences operating generatively-productively. Below the sea surface, these historical assemblages (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987, 2009) mobilize divers within the environment of fluid (Bauman, 2000) capitalist modernity, where the problematization of clear boundaries and the ideological celebration of risk reign (Beck, 1992, 1999). However, the sound of underwater breathing through the regulator is not always clear; the reverberation of recreational social intentions is sometimes somewhat ambiguous. A plastic bag, the limitation of fish, a car dumped into the sea generate unexpected resonances: noises behind the well-organized chords of recreation. Silences and shifts in the meaning of breathing itself, ultimately, the possibilities of alternative experiences, experiences that are always surplus (Seremetakis, 1996), gradually alter the gaze with which recreational divers see the underwater landscape—a landscape that is very much alive, filled with nonhuman living entities surrounding the divers (Cater, 2008a, 2008b). Touring underwater is not merely corporeal; it is also symbolic. Divers continually reinterpret what they see, not in a static sense, but through the evolving language and semiotics of leisure and tourism (Culler, 1981; Dann, 1996; Galani-Moutafi, 2015). These dynamics continually juxtapose the cosmopolitan with the local (Hannerz, 1990) and the familiar with the unexpected. In this sense, the ocean’s surface and depths form semiotic boundaries (Buck-Morss, 1987), which divers as tourists continuously transgress. These thresholds facilitate the politics of meaning (de Angelis, 2007) as divers ponder their complex underwater

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techno-­experiences. Ocean floors as tourist-utilizable water/landscapes inaugurate new realms of cultural questioning (Terkenli, 2001, 2002), activating beneath the sea the tourism imaginaries (Salazar, 2011; Salazar & Graburn, 2014). Furthermore, the multisensorial experience of immersion separates recreational divers initially from the “nature” they are purportedly in contact with, creating a surplus of experiential transition (Merchant, 2016). Even when a distance is achieved between commodified aims and underwater experiences, a latent sense of a liminal self is produced, not in the psychopathological sense, but as a reflection on the relationship between technology, human biology, and the limits between nature and culture (Longhurst, 2001; Whaley, 2018). Here, aquastalgia, the result of ecological concern over the status of water due to human activity, is not a psychological condition but a socio-cultural state that has the potential to acquire political attributes. Technology, therefore, is not just an object tamed for leisure. Its usage generates an interweaving of underwater techno-experiences that add to the underlying strata of consciousness, the particular, disparate social territories of self-reference. This represents social bonds themselves, as dynamic articulations between human and nonhuman entities. Experiences of this type of transition, as calculated violations of ontological boundaries, constitute, in themselves, a dynamic framework for the evolution of individual consciousness (Ryan, 2015). The precise implications of this remain to be further explored, particularly in the field of recreation.

Diving for Pleasure? Recreation, whether situated within the context of tourism or more expansively within “leisure time,” shapes the underwater experiences. It codifies sensory interactions and structurally mediates the emotional economy of the underwater body. However, this mediation is not unidimensional. Specific convergences either accentuate or, conversely, diminish emotions, tactics for utilizing underwater equipment, the quest for pleasure, the ecological concerns, and the attainment of others’ respect for underwater achievements. The concept of “underwater experience” extends beyond the field of commodified emotions. Recreational divers always perceive something beyond what is allowed by the socially codified underwater “touristic gaze” (Kaufman, 1997; Urry, 1990).

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At times, pleasures turn troubled (Soper, 1990), as leisure is transformed from a journey into the pleasurable unknown to a mental journey troubled by apprehensions about the future. Frequently, certain elements escape the standardization intrinsic to both recreation and tourism (Van Gorp, 2012), in the sense that they remain unthematized and elude categorization. The realities we encounter in the ocean depths are not always transparent. Within these strata, an ongoing sedimentation of underwater experiences accrues. This takes the form of partially unrefined sensory perceptions, cognitive and emotional processes, which—both individually and collectively—are progressively transformed within the realms of initiated divers and more broadly within the field of recreation into a type of “magma” (Castoriadis, 1987)—a collection of non-reducible and non-­ identifiable experiences. These experiences, while not external to the systemic structure of recreation, cannot be directly attributed to it. This emergent “magma” manifests as flickers of thought and experience, constituting a persistent, unruly surplus. It emanates from the act of diving itself and the full complement of accompanying experiences. While it tends to belong to the domain of diving, its complete integration remains elusive. The increasing sensitization and interest in the ethical concerns surrounding aquatic life transform these entities into a modern version of the “noble savage” (Descola, 2013). This constitutes a new form of romanticizing aquatic life, viewing fish and other marine beings as existing in a pristine, untouched state, from which we can learn how to live. This perspective echoes the old idea of the “noble savage,” which highlights the inherent nobility and purity of beings uncontaminated by culture (Rousseau, 1755). Undoubtedly, this has affiliations with both the exoticization of the Other and the imperial gaze that accompanies it (Huggan, 2001; Pratt, 1992). The paradox is that this ecological sensitization in the modern condition of late capitalist modernity aligns with nomadic ethics (Braidotti, 2006) in recreational diving practices and experiences, offering a new way to understand the cyborg nature of diving and the ethical dimensions of interaction with aquatic life. This intersection tends to challenge absolute anthropocentric views, cultivating more “holistic” conceptions of life, significantly affecting the way diving is conceptualized and practiced. The question that reasonably arises relates to the significance of this non-reducible, magmatic experiential matter. Could it nourish sensitivities concerning the major political stakes of the era, such as climate change,

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contact with the Other, the shift toward something non-identical, heterogeneous, or, conversely, does it function as a minor enhancer of an already fragmented Western subjectivity, too feeble to resist the global orchestration of underwater expeditions worldwide by the tourism industry? The interaction with aquatic life, far from being a mere “touristic” or “recreational” endeavor, has reverberating implications for how we understand ethical relationality, not just with “nature,” but also in the constellation of human-nonhuman relations (Burns, 2023). In any case, through the approach of historical ethnography adopted in this study, I endeavored to link institutional changes to shifts in consciousness. This coupling followed a clear trajectory in Greece, generally in line with most countries worldwide. By delving into the history of scuba diving in Greece, I aimed to demonstrate that a dense description of an empirical case allows us to contemplate the broader significance of underwater journeys. By deepening our understanding of the particular, grasping its various iterations, we can highlight how a simultaneously moving and transforming condition is shaped (Cornelissen, 2005; Boyer, 1996; Butler, 2004). And if travel is always a dynamic, sometimes contradictory, encounter between self and other (Galani-Moutafi, 2000; Bruner, 1991), a social process that temporarily liquefies specific reference territories of the entity moving in the liquid marine worlds (Chiaroni, 2016), where does the diver truly immerse when leaving the sea’s surface to wander the seabed as an underwater biotechnological being? The diving experience aligns with a magma-like experience, one that is not fully reducible to its social contexts, as it emerges as an incompletely formed experience of the liquid element. Hence, it is not surprising that it is often understood as an “authentic experience,” as the essence of escape from the dry, genuine sense of everyday life. This ostensibly “authentic” relationship with one’s embodied self beneath the sea’s surface, the kinesthetic and haptic experience of an unusual embodiment that problematizes the conventional (Obrador-Pons, 2007), is not the property of the seabed itself. It is the historical result of a temporary rupture from daily routines, through immersion into the blue phantasmagoria, an “escape” that is ideologically imbued to its utmost limits by the dictates of leisure and the search for a “genuine” relationship with oneself, but which is also at least partially productive (de Certeau, 1990), through constant poaching performances: touching an octopus in violation of current moral

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normativity, illegal fishing. Yet, also worrying about the consequences of human hyperactivity at the moment we invade ecosystems as clients of the tourism industry. The examples and possibilities are manifold. The pursuit of underwater ruins of the past for recreational purposes could transcend the enjoyment of contemporary exploration and delve back into the lives of the historically marginalized, the displaced slaves, and the drowned individuals who unsuccessfully attempted to reach Western paradises to escape despair (Bennet, 2020; Sharpe, 2016; Hamilakis, 2018). Scuba diving, as a humanitarian method (Jue, 2020), could contribute to a new “political ecology,” which, transcending the concept of free interaction between human and nonhuman entities, approximates a political ecology of collectivity in the broadest sense (Latour, 1998, 2004). My personal sentiment, derived from my explorations into the worlds of scuba divers in Greece, suggests that diving increases the likelihood of contemplating multi-species assemblages in order to go beyond anthropocentric narratives (Hamilakis, 2022). In the new nomadic age (Hamilakis, 2018), an era marked by the radicalization of movements, from the mobilization of bodies to the fluidity of identities (Lash & Urry, 1994), the sheer enjoyment of underwater exploration sometimes shifts direction and destination, particularly when goals are not met, when the blue loses its intensity and water its clarity, when aquastalgia becomes the paradoxical companion of pleasure. From this perspective, any notion of “authenticity” is not found in the goals of the recreational dive, but in the experience of the dive itself, in its execution, in the ontological journey. Neo-­ romanticism is a common phenomenon in this search for the paradoxical authenticity of diving as an immersion into the self, connected with nature. The magic lies in the realization of the interconnectedness of body, technology, and the fragile nature upon which human beings drastically intervene for profit and pleasure.

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Voutsaras, T. (1962). To mouseion tou vythou [the Museum of the depths]. Orion, 2, 3–4. Wacquant, L. (2022). Body and soul: Notebooks of an apprentice boxer. Oxford University Press. Wall, S. (2006). An autoethnography on learning about autoethnography. International Journal of Qualitative Methods, 5(2), 1–12. Waters, M. (1995). Globalization. Routledge. Weber, M. (1978). Economy and society: An outline of interpretive sociology. University of California Press. Weinberg, G. D., Grace, V. R., Edwards, G. R., Robinson, H. S., Throckmorton, P., & Ralph, E.  K. (1965). The Antikythera shipwreck reconsidered. Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, 55(3), 3–48. Whaley, L. (2018). Geographies of the self: Space, place, and scale revisited. Human Arenas, 1, 21–36. Wietschorke, J. (2010). Historical ethnography. Potentials and limitations of a concept. Zeitschrift für Volkskunde, 106, 197–224. Williams, S. (2009). Tourism geography: A new synthesis. Routledge. Willig, C. (2008). A phenomenological investigation of the experience of taking part in extreme sports. Journal of Health Psychology, 13(5), 690–702. Willow, A. J., & Wylie, S. (2014). Politics, ecology, and the new anthropology of energy: Exploring the emerging Frontiers of hydraulic fracking. Journal of Political Ecology, 21(1), 222–236. Wilson, J. (Ed.). (2012). The Routledge handbook of tourism geographies. Routledge. Wolcott, H. F. (2008). Ethnography: A way of seeing. AltaMira Press. Wolff, K. (Ed.). (1950). The sociology of Georg Simmel. Free Press. Wolff, K. (Ed.). (1955). Conflict and the web of group affiliations (1922). Free Press. Woodman, T., Hardy, L., Barlow, M., & Le Scanff, C. (2010). Motives for participation in prolonged engagement high-risk sports: An agentic emotion regulation perspective. Psychology of Sport and Exercise, 11(5), 345–352. Wynne, D. (1998). Leisure. Routledge. Xeilas, A. G. (2000). To epos ton sfoungaradon tis Kalymnou [the epic of the sponge divers of Kalymnos]. Ombros. Yassirani, H. (2017). Diving into underwater tourism in Greece, European Commission. Accessed Nov 04, 2017, from http://ec.europa.eu/regional_policy/en/newsroom/news/2017/10/10-­04-­2017-­diving-­into-­underwater-­ tourism-­in-­greece Yow, V. R. (1996). Recording oral history: A practical guide for social scientists. Sage. Zotos, P. (1904). Ekthesis peri tis ana tas afrikanikas aktas dia skafandrou spoggalieias [Report on sponge fishing on the African coasts by means of a diving suit]. Official Report, 10–11. Zukin, S. (1995). The cultures of cities. Blackwell.

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FEK (Greek Official Government Gazette) FEK 235/B/30.03.1971. FEK 207/A/10.8.1976a. FEK 207/A/10.8.1976b. FEK 131/A/ 22.07.1985. FEK 152/B/18.3.1988. FEK 542/B/12.7.1989. FEK 388/B/28.5.1993. FEK 78/A/10.4.1998. FEK 1679/A/17.12.2001. FEK 15/3A/28.06.2002a. FEK 153/A/28.6.2002b. FEK, 273/A/4.11.2005. FEK 214/A/2.10.2014. FEK 101/A/24.05.2020a. FEK 2968/B/5.5.2023. FEK 101/A/24.05 2020b.

Dive Magazines Orion (1962-1970), magazine of the Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activity (EOUDA). Ypovrychios Kosmos [Underwater World], (1971-2006).

Archives EOUDA Diving Schools Register, (1959 to 2005). Formal transcripts of General Assemblies and meetings of EOUDA, (1953 to 2000). Statutes of EOUDA, (1952 to 2023).

Internet Sites http://www.ofaktis.gr/ https://ykia.gr/ https://www.padi.com/ http://www.cousteau.org/ http://scubadive.gr/ https://www.eoyda.gr/

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https://kostasladas.blogspot.com/ http://www.kalymnos-isl.gr/ http://3lyk-nfilad.att.sch.gr/sponges/ https://www.naui.org/ https://www.filoitoybythoy.gr/

Documentaries and Movies The Silent World (1956), by Jacques-Yves Cousteau and Louis Malle. The Graduate (1967), by Mike Nichols. Oceans (2009), by Jacques Perrin and Jacques Cluzaud. Becoming Cousteau (2021), by Liz Garbus. Calypso’s Search for Atlantis (12 episodes) (1978), by Jacques-Yves Cousteau and Philippe Cousteau.

Index

A Aesthetics, 24, 34, 56, 79, 143, 144, 177, 180, 181, 192, 221–227, 246 Amphibious ethnography, 30, 38–42 Anthropocene, 245 Apparatus, vii, 4, 11, 12, 14, 18, 57, 61, 62, 66, 68, 71, 73, 74, 76, 102, 103, 110, 122, 208, 219, 229 Aqua-Lung, 83, 132, 155 Aquastalgia, 20, 21, 215–250, 256, 259, 262 Aquatic, 3, 9, 10, 13, 16, 17, 20–24, 30, 36, 39, 55, 68, 69, 79, 81, 123, 159, 166, 175, 203, 205, 207, 210, 220, 222, 235, 237, 243, 244, 254, 257 Aquaticity, 202–205 Aquatic life, 12, 29, 56, 77, 92, 96, 97, 137, 198, 212, 215, 236, 239, 244, 246–248, 250, 258, 260, 261

Archaeological Service/archaeological service, 4, 147, 149, 157, 161, 165, 172 Archaeology, 127, 128, 148, 150, 151, 153, 158–159, 170–172, 215 Archives, 30, 40, 49–52, 163 Assemblage, 18, 21, 23, 56, 79, 91, 95, 254, 256, 258, 262 Athens, 2, 5, 12, 34, 37, 48, 88, 89, 115, 123, 126, 130, 161, 170, 183 Authenticity, 16, 169, 209, 212, 213, 216, 224, 248, 262 Autoethnography, 30–38 Autonomy, 83–84, 157, 186, 197, 210 B Ban, 5, 37, 49, 134, 149, 159, 160, 162, 172, 219

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Tzanakis, Scuba Diving Practices in Greece, Leisure Studies in a Global Era, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-48839-9

295

296 

INDEX

Beauty, 9, 59, 93, 175, 192, 201, 205, 226, 230, 231, 238, 244, 257 Biology, 10, 12, 14, 60, 253, 256, 259 Blue phantasmagoria, 16, 25, 178–186, 191, 194, 197, 199, 203, 205, 212, 213, 221–223, 226, 228, 233, 235, 238, 243, 249, 250, 252, 256, 261 Blue world, 190, 232, 234 Bodily capital, 205 Body, vii, 3, 5, 8, 9, 15, 18, 19, 21, 23, 25, 34, 39, 52, 53, 56, 66, 81, 82, 91–93, 96, 98, 103, 109, 111, 115, 117–120, 122, 129, 130, 134, 135, 137, 140, 144, 151, 158, 160, 164, 165, 175–178, 180, 185, 186, 190, 191, 193, 196–205, 207, 208, 210, 212, 216, 236, 244, 246, 250, 256, 258, 259, 262 Boundaries, 19, 25, 26, 29, 54, 131, 135, 140, 160, 167, 195, 216, 220, 222, 225, 226, 237, 249, 250, 252–262 Breathing, vii, 4, 10, 12, 13, 18, 26, 35, 54, 56, 57, 61, 62, 71, 73, 74, 76, 81, 84, 87, 103, 110, 111, 139, 156, 176–213, 219, 229, 253, 254, 258 Bubbles, 3, 16, 20, 26, 53, 89, 129, 176, 180, 186, 193, 199, 205–208, 210, 211, 229, 230 Buoyancy compensation device (BCD), 13, 56, 80, 81, 84, 89, 198, 205, 232 C Capital, 3, 10, 123, 129 Capitalism, ix, 84, 93, 99, 142, 192, 216, 233, 248 Care, 9, 14, 46, 80, 92, 129, 137, 159, 190, 191, 230, 231

Cave, 11, 14, 29, 194, 223, 225 Certification, 3, 6, 8, 14, 24, 34, 35, 37, 38, 40, 50, 80, 81, 94, 107, 111, 115, 122, 126, 131, 133, 156, 171 Civilization, 1, 25, 61, 144–146, 151, 152, 155, 172, 178, 216, 222, 237, 242, 243, 247–249 Climate change, 10, 17, 20, 39, 219, 232, 237, 242–244, 254, 257, 260 Club, viii, 3, 12, 40, 47, 51, 88, 98, 103, 106, 120–122, 126, 132, 156 Colonization, 171 Comfort, 34, 68, 80, 84–85, 87, 198, 203–205 Commercialization, viii, ix, 2, 9, 13, 14, 24, 83, 85, 89–91, 107, 140, 144, 153 Commodification, 7, 15, 21, 24, 34, 73, 91, 94, 118, 133, 139, 143, 213, 235, 252 Community, vii, viii, 5–12, 20, 28, 31, 36, 39, 42, 43, 46, 47, 51, 66, 67, 69, 80, 86–88, 94, 103, 105, 130, 134, 136, 141, 157, 162, 164, 165, 170, 182, 185, 195–196, 202, 237, 243, 245, 247 Computer, 13, 80, 84, 85, 150, 186, 196, 198, 199 Cosmos, 245 Cousteau, Jacques-Yves, vii, 1, 6, 10–13, 21, 83, 89, 90, 113, 122, 124, 131, 132, 144, 149, 150, 153, 158, 171, 200, 206, 209 Cultural evolutions, 7, 119 D Decompression, 2, 3, 41, 67, 76, 85, 128, 131, 186, 196, 198, 199

 INDEX 

chamber, 67, 129 sickness, 66, 76, 85, 105, 111, 119, 128–130, 199, 254 Democratization, 117, 180 Depths, vii, 1–3, 12, 16, 17, 23–26, 33, 52, 57–61, 63, 65–69, 73, 75, 77–79, 84, 85, 90–92, 96, 100, 103, 105, 111, 122, 124, 132, 136, 139–148, 151–159, 162, 166, 175, 177, 178, 181–186, 188–194, 196–201, 203, 205, 206, 211, 212, 217–220, 225, 231, 233, 235, 241, 243, 244, 254, 258, 260 Desire, 10, 39, 57, 59, 94, 151–158, 174, 188, 210–213 Digital ethnography, 30, 42–47 Dispositif, 56, 73, 95, 179, 211 Dive time, 3, 198, 199 Diving centers, 3–5, 25, 30, 34, 37, 41, 42, 50, 87, 88, 112, 116, 130, 161–163, 165, 170–172, 175, 183, 188, 190, 191, 196, 201, 229, 233–235, 238, 239 Diving communities, 9, 14, 17, 20, 21, 26, 29, 30, 38, 41, 47, 48, 50, 51, 54, 56, 62, 70–73, 76, 82, 85–90, 94, 102–103, 116, 117, 123, 132–135, 142, 156, 157, 159, 160, 166, 173, 179, 186, 205, 218, 233, 235, 248 Diving equipment, 5, 6, 10, 13, 25, 34, 41, 46, 56, 62, 80–94, 97, 98, 104, 109, 111–113, 116, 118, 119, 131, 132, 135, 165, 170, 177, 178, 184–186, 196–205, 231, 232, 252, 254, 258 Diving industry, 42, 87, 124, 133, 135, 171, 173, 233, 235–237, 239, 248, 256 Dumas, Frederic, 6, 21, 144, 206 Dystopia, 57–61

297

E Earth, 1, 60, 181, 191, 194, 216, 230, 231, 245 Eco-dive, 233–237, 248, 256 Ecological concerns, 16, 21, 25, 40, 49, 59, 77, 95, 172, 181, 184, 215, 216, 218, 219, 235, 241, 245, 248, 254, 256, 259 Ecological perspective, 217, 223, 232–237, 239, 256 Ecology, 15, 16, 218, 262 Elsewhere, 133, 170, 210–213, 219, 242 Embodied self, 16, 29, 30, 105, 116, 185–197, 204, 261 Emotion, vii, 25, 34, 53, 68, 69, 92, 93, 119, 133, 144, 178–187, 191, 193, 202–205, 208, 211, 213, 223, 224, 238, 240, 256, 259 Emotional economy, 7, 12, 29, 53, 82, 91, 144, 168, 178, 180, 196, 238, 252, 253, 256, 259 Engagement, 1, 8–10, 13, 17–19, 32, 33, 38, 43, 46, 47, 52–54, 57, 62, 74, 105, 106, 199, 209, 216, 230, 243 Enjoyment, 15, 56, 60, 61, 73, 81, 91, 94, 108, 116, 121, 128, 132, 136, 137, 142, 166, 175, 188, 191, 193, 198, 204, 223, 236, 239, 253, 262 Environment, 2, 4, 6, 7, 9–11, 14, 16–21, 24–26, 29, 32, 33, 38, 39, 41, 42, 45, 47, 56–59, 69, 71, 72, 79–83, 85, 91, 96, 97, 101, 104, 105, 109, 112, 116, 120, 121, 129, 132, 139, 140, 159, 162, 167, 169, 175, 177, 179, 183, 185–187, 191, 193, 197, 198, 203–208, 211–213, 216, 218, 221–229, 231, 232,

298 

INDEX

234, 235, 237, 238, 241, 243–249, 252–254, 256–258 Escape, viii, 60, 187, 193, 194, 209, 210, 212, 254, 260–262 Ethical, 1, 17, 20, 21, 30, 32, 38, 45–47, 49, 73, 77, 120, 179, 228, 229, 231–233, 244, 246, 249, 250, 258, 260, 261 Ethos, viii, 51, 109, 116–118, 127, 128, 132, 133, 231, 233, 236, 258 Everyday life, 15, 57, 144, 167, 179, 187, 189, 192–194, 197, 211, 212, 253, 261 Exoticization, 249, 260 Experience, vii, viii, 2, 3, 7, 9–11, 13–16, 18–21, 23–41, 45, 46, 51–56, 61, 69, 80–82, 84, 85, 88, 90–95, 112, 115, 117, 123, 132, 133, 136, 137, 139, 142–145, 164, 168–171, 174–213, 215, 220–228, 230–233, 238, 242, 244, 246, 248–250, 252–262 F Facebook groups, 42 FEK, 5, 129, 133, 134, 150, 156–158, 160, 162, 164, 166, 167, 169 Fernez system, 62, 65, 91 Fishermen, 6, 63, 78, 103, 150, 155, 158, 165, 167, 221, 239, 242, 248 Fishing, vii, 6, 33, 40, 49, 51, 61–71, 73, 77, 78, 89, 96, 98, 104, 115, 120–122, 128, 141, 156, 157, 166, 170, 175, 205, 217–222, 228–230, 237, 243, 247, 255, 262 Flâneur, 16

Flow, 28, 69, 91, 92, 135, 168, 170, 171, 180, 193, 197, 206, 210–213, 224, 237, 241–243, 249, 253, 256, 258 Free diving, 40, 63, 71, 76, 100, 122, 208 Free time, 13, 56, 193, 194 Frogmen, 106, 109–112, 128, 131, 133, 134, 141, 142 G Gagnan, Émile, vii, 12, 83, 90 Gaze, 15–18, 22, 24, 29, 39, 78, 115, 140, 143, 144, 146, 169, 176, 192, 197, 199, 205, 216, 218, 222, 223, 229, 235, 238, 241, 244, 249, 250, 252, 256, 258, 260 Genealogical perspective, 1 Globalization, 21, 28, 243, 249 Glocalization, 28 Greece, viii, 1–6, 10, 12, 13, 16, 17, 22–24, 27–55, 65, 70, 74, 75, 77, 86, 88, 90, 96–99, 102, 103, 105–113, 116–119, 124–129, 131, 133–135, 137, 139, 141, 144–167, 170, 171, 174, 175, 190, 191, 196, 200, 202–205, 213, 217, 219–221, 224, 227–229, 231, 236, 238, 240, 253, 261, 262 H Habitus, 15, 109, 203 Hedonistic adventure, 40, 179 Hellenic Federation of Underwater Activity (EOUDA), 3, 5, 12, 13, 30, 34, 37, 47, 50–52, 75, 88, 106, 109, 112, 118–127, 134, 148, 151, 155–157, 160, 165, 168, 172, 217, 225

 INDEX 

Helmet, 33, 61–70, 73, 78, 83, 85, 86, 90, 98, 99, 102, 129, 150, 151, 158, 200, 201 Heretization, 78, 96 Heritage, 23, 71, 72, 78, 94, 96–100, 103–105, 128, 151, 158–161 Historical perspective, 27, 29 Historiography, 11 Hobby, viii, 38, 136, 164, 170, 171, 175, 193, 201, 203, 208 Holiday, vii, 33, 80, 139, 180, 184, 241 Human, vii, 1, 7, 12–14, 16–21, 25, 31, 38, 39, 42, 53, 54, 56–60, 69, 72, 74, 79, 82, 90–92, 94, 95, 97, 98, 104, 111, 117, 130, 132, 137, 140, 141, 143, 144, 155, 161, 171, 178, 181, 189, 191, 203, 205, 207, 209, 210, 212, 213, 215–218, 220–222, 224–227, 232, 233, 235–240, 243–245, 247–250, 252–254, 256–259, 262 Hybrid, 13, 20, 28, 29, 53, 69, 81, 233, 240, 249, 250, 254, 257 Hyperactivity, 216, 227, 236, 238, 248, 262 Hyperbaric medicine, 126, 128–130 Hyperreality, 92, 197–199 I Identity, viii, 7, 9, 12, 18, 22, 27, 28, 34, 36, 40, 46, 56, 93–96, 99, 100, 105, 123, 147, 148, 181, 196, 210, 257, 262 Ideology, 12, 95, 115, 117, 128, 133–137, 142, 148, 190, 195 Imaginary, 20, 22, 56–57, 68, 145, 146, 151, 183, 213, 216, 227, 245, 259 Immersion, 3, 10, 14, 21, 53, 81, 93, 137, 178, 186, 190, 193, 197,

299

207, 211, 223, 249, 252–255, 259, 261, 262 Inequality, 8, 185 Institutionalization, 118, 119, 131, 136, 158–159 Instructor, viii, 2, 4, 24, 30, 31, 34, 37, 41, 80, 105, 108, 112–114, 116, 118, 126, 128, 130, 131, 133–135, 161, 165, 171, 172, 192, 196, 204, 229, 242 Interview, 30, 32, 38–42, 51, 113, 115, 183 J Journey, 2, 7, 22, 24, 26, 32, 40, 60, 67, 73, 91, 92, 113, 144, 146–164, 167, 177, 178, 181, 186, 194, 197, 206, 209–213, 237, 250, 252, 254, 256, 257, 260–262 K Kalymnos, 22, 55, 62–69, 75, 76, 78, 85, 96, 98, 100, 103–105, 149 Knowledge, 8, 13–15, 29, 57, 58, 69, 71–73, 76, 81, 93, 111, 118, 123, 129–133, 135, 137, 141, 171, 195, 196, 202, 204 L Land/waterscape, 53 Landscape, vii, 10, 15–17, 20, 30, 33, 35, 36, 39, 42, 46, 48, 51–53, 140, 148, 153, 168, 169, 171, 175, 179, 185, 194, 197, 206, 212, 215, 220, 221, 223, 225, 226, 228–230, 243, 247, 258 Language, 14, 68, 69, 109, 181, 185, 191, 197, 226, 258

300 

INDEX

Late capitalist modernity, 7, 57, 99, 140, 145, 186, 220, 252, 254, 256, 260 Law, 14, 60, 111, 120, 121, 126, 133, 137, 141, 149, 150, 156, 159–161, 164–167, 169, 231 Leisure, vii–ix, 1–28, 32–34, 42, 56, 59, 76, 98, 110, 120, 122, 130, 131, 137, 140, 141, 143, 155, 167, 169, 178, 179, 181, 184–187, 191–193, 201, 204, 205, 208, 212, 216, 225, 226, 231, 235, 252–254, 258–261 M Magazine, 4, 5, 12, 30, 42, 47–51, 75–77, 106, 113, 117, 118, 123, 128, 132, 134, 140, 143, 151, 152, 154–157, 159, 160, 168, 183, 217–219 Magic world, 93–94, 142, 201, 223, 231, 235, 238 Magma, 20, 142, 144, 233, 241, 260 Marine ecosystem, 14, 15, 17, 21, 77, 165, 218, 232, 233, 236, 237, 240–242 Marine leisure, 5, 6, 8, 109, 127 Marine life, 8, 41, 81, 86, 120, 121, 137, 175, 198, 217, 220, 221, 223–226, 228, 233, 236, 239, 242, 243 Maritime antiquities, 145–164 Meaning, 8, 9, 18, 21, 39, 40, 53, 54, 85, 92, 94, 95, 118, 144, 175, 178, 182, 183, 202, 205, 206, 212, 218, 225, 226, 235, 239, 244, 245, 258 Mechanic, 68 Mediterranean, 27, 68, 70, 78, 100, 147, 157, 224, 241–244 Melancholy, 58, 59, 240

Memory, 51, 70, 78, 96, 98, 99, 180, 192, 193, 196, 202 Military, 13, 23, 24, 48, 92, 106–112, 115–119, 125, 126, 128, 130, 131, 134, 135, 137, 139, 141, 184 Ministry of culture, 116, 137 Mnemonic, 9, 69, 194, 211, 212, 225 Mobility, 3, 6, 26, 28, 54, 70, 81, 83, 91, 192, 252 Morality, 220, 233 Motion, 25, 85, 177, 203, 232 Movement, 18, 19, 25, 56, 83, 84, 93, 127, 133, 143, 145, 155, 178, 180, 186, 193, 196, 198, 203, 205, 206, 208, 211, 252–254, 262 Multisensory experience, 16, 31, 139, 144, 168, 170, 177–213, 215, 227, 253 N Narghile system, 65 Narrative, 12, 20–22, 25, 29–32, 38, 41, 46, 58, 68, 97, 112, 179, 181, 184, 188, 191, 194, 200, 201, 203, 204, 209, 212, 220, 222, 229, 245, 247, 249, 262 National Association of Underwater Instructors (NAUI), 50, 81, 119 Nature, viii, 2, 10, 12, 15, 18–22, 24–27, 33, 39, 40, 42, 46, 50, 56–59, 66, 69, 72, 79, 91, 93, 95, 97, 105, 106, 108, 113, 116, 117, 121, 124, 127, 128, 136, 137, 142–144, 162, 166, 169, 181–183, 185, 187, 192, 193, 203, 206, 209, 213, 215–217, 222–224, 226, 228, 232–235, 237, 238, 240, 244, 246–248, 253, 256, 257, 259–262

 INDEX 

Navy, 51, 107–137, 150 Neo-romanticism, 57, 262 Noble savage, 244–250, 260 Nomadism, 18 Nostalgia, 237 O Octopus, 3, 71, 153, 171, 223, 230, 234, 247, 261 Odysseus, 58, 61, 73, 221, 222, 254 Ontological voyage, 197 Ontology, 26, 39, 243–245 Open water, 14, 34 Organization, 3, 12, 13, 18, 28, 29, 34, 50, 51, 59, 62, 74, 98, 104, 108, 111, 116, 118–122, 125–127, 134, 158, 159, 161, 164, 179, 183, 188, 204, 213, 234, 242, 243, 258 Orion, 5, 10, 30, 47, 48, 75, 76, 123, 127, 128, 132, 151, 152, 155–157 Outdoor, 10, 15, 57, 84, 85, 134, 135, 145, 185, 186 OYK, 109, 117 P Pedagogy, 13, 14 Periodization, 1, 2, 29, 91 Phantasmagoria, 16, 25, 139–176, 178–186, 191, 194, 197, 199, 203, 205, 212, 213, 216, 221–223, 226, 228, 233, 235, 238, 243, 244, 249, 250, 252, 256, 261 Phantasmagoric perception, 142–146, 169, 197 Phenomenology, 54 Photo, 11, 104

301

Photography, 46, 80, 122, 123, 125, 132, 182, 243 Physics, 10, 14, 15, 34, 131, 132, 137, 196 Physiology, 1, 14, 15, 24, 29, 34, 65, 75, 108, 111, 130–132, 137, 196 Pioneers, 30, 55, 83, 89, 90, 112, 115, 130, 132, 133, 142, 201, 202 Pleasurable exploration, 130, 157, 183, 205, 222, 252 Political orientation, 17 Politics, 26, 95, 242, 258 Privacy, 32, 46 Problematization, 217–220, 222, 226, 243, 246, 247, 249, 250, 258 Professional Association of Diving Instructors (PADI), 3, 6, 13, 34, 37, 50, 81, 119, 126, 162, 166, 171, 172, 234, 243 Professionalization, 119, 130–135 Prohibition, 4, 37, 68, 125, 134, 146–164, 172, 217–219, 231 R Recreation, viii, 10, 13, 17, 22, 23, 26, 29, 33, 39, 40, 50, 73, 78–90, 92, 95, 96, 99–101, 104, 106, 107, 110, 116, 118, 121–123, 133–135, 137, 156, 162, 166, 167, 180, 181, 183, 185–187, 192, 205, 217, 218, 220, 224, 253, 256, 258–260 Recreational diving, ix, 4, 9, 13–15, 17, 18, 20, 22–24, 26, 27, 29, 31, 33, 39, 42–43, 50, 53, 56, 60, 70, 72–74, 77, 82, 83, 86, 87, 89, 91, 105–107, 109, 112, 113, 115–118, 120, 136, 137, 141, 144, 153, 165–167, 175, 178, 181, 183–185, 188, 191,

302 

INDEX

201, 205, 206, 209, 219, 220, 224, 227–231, 233, 236–239, 252, 260 Regulator, vii, 10, 13, 19, 25, 35, 53, 56, 80–84, 89, 90, 92, 177, 199, 208, 211, 254, 258 Representations, 2, 10, 15, 16, 24–26, 49, 54, 56, 57, 60, 94, 95, 104, 114, 118, 137, 140, 141, 143, 144, 150, 151, 169, 170, 180, 181, 183, 191, 197, 199, 211, 212, 246, 252, 257 Rescue, 14, 129, 221 Responsibility, 5, 77, 109, 123, 126, 158, 159, 187, 221, 232, 245 Risk, 7, 19–21, 24, 32, 40, 58, 60, 63, 67, 68, 70, 73, 78, 82, 85, 97, 105, 108, 111, 114, 117, 119, 128, 130, 133, 184, 187–192, 199, 207, 220, 223, 233, 240, 248, 249, 254, 258 Risk management, 80, 118, 137, 185–191, 210, 237 S Safe diving, 14, 85, 108, 111, 116, 117, 119, 120, 133–137, 189, 190, 195 Safety, 6, 13, 14, 24, 40, 45, 60, 61, 73, 80, 81, 84–85, 87, 88, 94, 101, 105, 107, 111, 115, 116, 118, 119, 132, 133, 136, 137, 141, 142, 184, 186–193, 198–201, 228, 229 Scuba gear, 4, 73, 104, 105, 108, 132, 141, 155, 156, 159, 184, 209, 218, 219, 222, 228, 229 Sea, vii, viii, 1–4, 15–19, 24, 25, 30, 32–34, 39–41, 51, 52, 57–60, 62, 63, 68, 69, 71, 72, 77, 79, 104, 105, 107, 110, 113, 115, 124, 125, 127, 128, 137, 139–142,

144–146, 148, 149, 153, 155, 158–162, 164–169, 171–173, 175, 176, 178–186, 188, 193, 196, 197, 203–207, 212, 213, 215–226, 228, 229, 231–234, 238–243, 245–247, 250, 254, 257–259 Seabed, 2, 5, 8, 10, 13–18, 39–42, 63, 67, 68, 71, 77, 110, 122, 125, 130, 137, 141, 147, 148, 151, 153, 156, 161, 162, 165–172, 175, 176, 178–180, 183, 184, 186, 192, 193, 195, 197, 201, 204, 207, 211, 217, 218, 220–223, 227, 229, 230, 232, 234, 237–243, 246, 248, 249, 252, 254, 261 Self, 2, 8, 14–16, 18–22, 24, 25, 29, 30, 53, 91, 93, 105, 116, 137, 140, 143, 147, 176, 178, 180, 186, 189, 191, 193, 197, 204, 215, 228, 231, 241, 252–254, 257, 259, 261, 262 Sensation, 3, 16, 18, 19, 21, 24, 25, 35, 38–40, 53, 84, 93, 143, 157, 176–178, 185, 186, 192, 198–202, 206, 208, 209, 211, 213, 232, 244 Senses, viii, 10, 36, 61, 72, 81, 88, 92–94, 117, 133, 141, 142, 178–185, 187, 192, 196–198, 202–207, 211, 215, 220, 222, 233, 238, 244, 247, 258–262 Sensitivity, 47, 77, 97, 120, 121, 156, 167, 181, 213, 216, 217, 220, 227, 231–232, 237, 238, 248, 249, 260 Sensorial flow, 180, 208, 210–213 Sensorium, 30, 196–205, 252, 253, 258 Sensory, 9, 10, 14, 15, 17, 19, 21, 24, 26, 33, 53, 54, 81, 82, 90, 178,

 INDEX 

193, 197, 199, 200, 212, 238, 241, 256, 258–260 Sensory regime, 7, 25, 29, 81, 82, 91, 144, 168, 177, 179, 180, 196, 238, 253, 256 Shipwreck, 2, 3, 5, 14, 16, 25, 99, 140, 144, 147–150, 153, 159, 166, 171, 173, 174, 178, 180, 220, 244 Silence, 53, 206–210, 258 Skandalopetra, 63, 65, 76, 96, 98–101 Social media, 25, 42, 45, 56, 82, 90, 98, 104, 196 Social representations, 2, 24, 140, 170, 180, 181, 212 Social strata, 8, 128 Solastalgia, 19, 20, 217, 238 Soundscape, 53, 205–210 Spectacle, 15, 62, 144, 155, 175–176, 224, 226 Sponge fishing, 27, 61–70, 77, 128 Sport, 2, 7, 9, 12, 13, 23, 24, 29, 42, 51, 57, 73–75, 78, 79, 85, 86, 92, 94, 98–101, 104, 106–137, 140, 145, 155, 156, 160, 175, 181, 186, 187, 189, 193, 203, 217, 220, 256 Sport diving, 51, 106, 132 Sportization, 81, 110, 117–128, 131, 231 Stakeholder, 237 Standardization, 2, 6, 8, 13, 15, 24, 28, 89, 91, 107, 108, 113, 119, 122, 130–135, 260 Subjectivity, 16, 18, 20, 21, 24, 31, 40, 53, 69, 95, 137, 140, 211, 243, 252, 261 Symbiosis, 16, 54 Symbol, 8, 21, 52, 58, 71, 78, 95, 117, 150, 155, 192, 201, 226, 244

303

T Taskscape, 53, 206, 220–223, 236 Technobody, 13, 20, 21, 56, 178, 196, 197, 205, 211, 212, 223, 250, 254, 256, 258 Technology, 2, 10, 13, 15, 19, 22–25, 28, 39, 42, 54–106, 108, 113, 116, 130, 133, 150, 151, 177, 185, 186, 191, 196, 197, 217, 231–232, 252, 253, 256, 257, 259, 262 Technoscience, 59, 61–70, 79, 86 Technoscientific applications, 24, 61, 82, 95, 113, 178, 179, 185, 186, 193, 215, 217, 232, 252, 254 Terrestrial, 7, 14, 39, 215, 235, 254, 257 Thing, 13, 56, 69, 74, 76, 79, 90–92, 95, 173, 189, 190, 193, 195, 201, 204, 216, 218, 219, 223, 228, 230, 239, 241, 242, 251, 256 Time, vii–ix, 2, 3, 5, 8, 12, 13, 15, 19, 28, 33, 35, 37, 51, 52, 54–59, 61, 65, 67–70, 74, 76, 83, 85–87, 89, 92, 97, 99, 103, 106, 108, 109, 111–113, 115, 116, 122, 123, 125, 126, 129, 134, 135, 140, 141, 143–145, 147, 148, 150, 153, 161, 162, 164, 167, 169, 171, 176, 179, 181–183, 188–190, 193–196, 198, 199, 202, 205, 207, 208, 216–218, 221, 225, 228, 230, 243, 250, 260 Tourism, viii, 2, 5, 6, 16, 22–24, 27–29, 34, 39, 42, 47, 50, 51, 79, 81, 87, 88, 90, 92, 98–100, 118, 124–126, 140, 142, 160, 164–171, 174, 179–181, 183, 184, 191, 199, 220, 236, 237, 241, 248, 249, 258–260

304 

INDEX

Tourism industry, 5, 21, 25, 51, 135, 136, 139, 174, 188, 236–238, 261, 262 Tourist gaze, 16, 143 Touristization, 139–176, 180, 220, 231 Training, viii, 2–4, 6, 8, 13–15, 24, 29, 34–37, 40, 47, 50, 80–82, 88, 97, 104, 105, 107–111, 113–117, 119, 122, 124–126, 129–135, 137, 145, 165–167, 169–172, 186, 188, 189, 191, 192, 202, 204, 219, 235 U Underwater realm, vii, 1, 19, 20, 22, 26, 42, 56, 71, 73, 77, 81, 93, 95, 193, 215, 226, 236 Underwater self, 8, 18–22, 228 Underwater world, vii, 6, 7, 21, 23–26, 32, 54–78, 81, 92–96, 102–106, 114, 116, 118, 120, 122, 125, 137, 141, 144, 146, 167, 169, 170, 196, 198, 201, 202, 204, 212, 213, 216, 223,

232, 235, 238, 243, 252, 254, 256 Utopia, 57–61 V Vacation, 12, 24, 217 W Water, vii, 2, 3, 13, 14, 16–18, 20, 21, 25, 26, 33, 35–40, 52, 62, 66, 68, 71, 72, 83–85, 87, 89, 92, 103, 107, 114, 121, 122, 136, 140, 143–145, 153, 158, 160, 165, 168, 174, 176–213, 215, 222, 224, 232, 239, 240, 242–246, 255, 256, 259, 262 World Confederation of Underwater Activities (CMAS, Confédération Mondiale des Activités Subaquatiques), 13, 34, 37, 50, 75, 81, 119, 122, 125, 126, 131, 136, 161 Y Ypovrychios Kosmos, 5, 30, 88, 106, 117, 159, 160